



Book 

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A Strenuous Lover, 


A ROMANCE OF A NATURAE LOVE’S 
VAST POWER. 


ORIGINAL STORY BY 

BERNARR MACFADDEN 

Rbvised with the Assistance of 

JOHN R. CORYELL. 




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Copyrighted 1904 by Physical Culture Publishing Co. 


Entered 


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PUBLISHED BY 

PHYSICAL CULTURE PUBLISHING CO., 


New York: Townsend Bldg. 
25th St. and Broadway. 


London : 12 & 13 Red Lion Court, 
Fleet Street, E. C. 



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Of wha^t aLva^ll tKe largest gifts of heaven. 

When drooping health and spirits go amiss ? 

How tacsteless then whatever can be given ! 
Headth is the vita^l principle of bliss. 

Thomson — "Castle of Indolence** 


**Love stifles and dies if answered by weakness. The 
loyovis response which physical perfection a^lone can give Is 
needful to a love that will live a^nd last/* 




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A Strenuous Lover 


CHAPTER I 

“Oh, I don’t want to take any more of 
that nasty stuff.” 

“But you won’t get well, dear, if you 
don’t take medicine; and the doctor is sure 
this will help you; am’t you, doctor?” 

“I have great hopes of it, Mrs. Raymond. 
The complications of Arthur’s case are of 
such a character that in order to reach the 
various ramifications of the — er — the — let me 
simplify and say disorder — ^the — er — disorder, 
it is necessary to proceed with caution and — 
er — as I may say attack the various manifes- 
tations one by one. You remember the fable 
of the bundle of fagots, Arthur? Yes, of 
course.” 

The physician rubbed his soft hands slowly 
together and smiled blandly first at the 
greatly impressed mother and then at the 
querulous son. 


2 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


Dr. Brayton was a most successful prac- 
titioner of medicine, with an imposing pres- 
ence, an unctuous voice and a way of hesi- 
tating profoundly when a sufficiently large 
word did not present itself for his use; on 
which occasions it was his habit to appear 
to condescend to a word or a phrase suited 
to the lay mind of his auditor. This made 
him very popular; and it was a not uncom- 
mon thing for his patients to declare that it 
did them good only to have him come into 
the room. 

Evidently, however, the patient in this 
case was not of that mind. He fidgeted fret- 
fully in his chair while the doctor talked in 
his meaningless phrases, and utterly refused 
to smile in response to the latter’s pleasantry 
about the old fable. 

“I’ve done nothing but take medicine for 
Heaven knows how long, and I only grow 
worse,” he said discontentedly. “I don’t even 
know what is the matter with me. What is 
it, doetor?” 

“I shall — er— take occasion to converse 
with your mother concerning that matter,” 
answered the physician with supernatural 
gravity. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


3 


“Never mind, Arthur dear, what is the 
matter with you, but take the medicine the 
doctor prescribes, and you will surely get 
well; won’t he, doctor?” said the mother 
soothingly. 

“Beyond a doubt, beyond a doubt,” re- 
plied the doctor solemnly, rising as he spoke, 
for the atmosphere of the room was dread- 
fully close and he wished to get out of it; 
“you must rely upon your physician, Arthur; 
you must rely upon your physician.” 

“Rely on you? of course I rely on you,” 
said Arthur pettishly; “but that doesn’t 
make me well. And look at the bottles of 
medicine I’ve taken! A year ago I could 
walk about out-of-doors; now I can’t go off 
the floor, or even get a breath of fresh air.” 

“He is always wanting to have the win- 
dows open, doctor,” said the mother, looking 
anxiously at the doctor. “Won’t you tell 
him how unsafe that would be?” 

“But it’s summer,” wailed Arthur, “and I 
don’t see how fresh air can do me any harm.” 

“A draft, in your condition, my dear boy,” 
said the physician, “might induce conditions 
which — er— well, I would not be responsible 
for the consequences and er — ” 


4 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Oh,” cried Arthur, “I sometimes think 
you’d better give me something to put an 
end to me quick. Honest, doctor! do you 
think I’ll ever be well? I get worse and 
worse and weaker and weaker in spite of all 
the medicine and the nursing.” 

“Certainly, you will get well, my boy. 
There, there I don’t permit yourself to have 
such dismal thoughts. Well, I must be going. 
Have that prescription filled out, Mrs. Ray- 
mond, and see that Arthur takes his dose 
regularly.” 

“And the cod liver oil, doctor? Shall he 
go on taking that, too?” 

“Oh, I hate that stuff,” cried Arthur. 

“ Dear me I ” murmured the doctor placidly. 
“Yes, he must take that; yes, yes! The cod 
liver oil is so easily assimilated— that is, when 
taken with — er — I think you have some of 
those tabloids? Yes. And it has— er — an 
especial nutritive value — in fact, builds up the 
tissues as nothing else — er— and taken in con- 
junction with this new prescription should 
produce a marked effect. I think Arthur 
shows a little more vigor to-day, Mrs. Ray- 
mond? Shall we go now? Thank you! Good 
morning, Arthur, my boy!” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


5 


“Good morning!” 

The door of the bedroom was opened by 
Mrs. Raymond, and before it closed upon her 
and the doctor Arthur could hear her say in 
a low tone : 

“Robert has been violent again; I want 
you to see him.” 

Arthur shuddered and rose unsteadily to 
his feet. Robert! Robert, the eldest son, a 
hopeless maniac, confined in a padded room 
upstairs, held by iron chains ; and he, Arthur, 
an equally hopeless invalid, held to his floor 
by a weakness that was greater than the 
strength of the chains of iron. 

He dragged himself weakly to the window 
and looked out wearily. He thought of the 
time not so long ago when he played ball 
in those vacant lots; then of the time when 
he began to find that play tired him; how 
school tired him; how, later, it tired him to 
go to the office to work with his father. 
And now, at twenty, he was waiting — ^for 
what? Was it to die? 

He thought of the cold, unsympathetic 
eye of the suave doctor, and wondered if he 
had even the interest in him to want to keep 
him alive in order to get his fees. He turned 


6 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


from the window and looked at where the 
bottles of medicine were ranged on a shelf. 

“I don’t believe it has done me a particle 
of good,” he muttered; “I don’t believe 
Brayton expects it to do me any good. And 
if my case is hopeless I don’t see why I should 
swill that nasty stuff.” 

“With the fretful impatience and irritability 
of a sick man he made his way across the 
room and opened the door into the next room 
— the front bedroom of the floor — and went 
through. 

It was the sum of his diversions now to 
go from one stuffy room into the other; 
both kept free from drafts for his sake during 
the day. The front room was his sister 
Maude’s bedroom. 

It tired him to walk even that short dis- 
tance, and he sank into a chair by the win- 
dow, his face on his hand, his elbow on the 
arm of the chair. Suddenly he started up, 
breathing quickly from the exertion, but 
looking eagerly down to the sidewalk. 

A burst of merry, girlish laughter had fallen 
on his ear— the sweet laughter of one he knew, 
of one he delighted to look at. 

And there she stood on the sidewalk, fair 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


7 


to see, foil of delight to ear as well as eye, 
as she looked up to the parlor windows of 
the Raymond house saying something and 
laughing. 

It was Amelia Winsted, the only daughter 
of the family next door, his playmate of many 
years, his romance now; a fairy creature 
whom everybody loved and petted ; the sight 
of whom sent even Arthur’s feeble life throb- 
bing more quickly through his veins. 

But he shrank back from the window, now, 
with a scowl and a little moan, in which 
were despair and bitterness. Close by Amelia’s 
side was a dark, handsome young man, whose 
broad shoulders and athletic frame filled 
Arthur with a sense of self-pity. 

“Because he is so well and strong, and I 
am so puny,” he wailed, the very words com- 
ing from his own lips like a direful answer 
to his own piteous self-questioning. 

He dropped into the chair again and buried 
his face in his hands. His health and strength 
had gone from him, his very youth seemed 
as far away as if his years had reached the 
traditional limit, and now he felt as if the last 
tie that held him to life had been severed ; 
for had not little Amelia Wiitsted turned from 


8 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


her weak and siekly old playmate to the 
broad-shouldered athlete. 

He started up again and looked out of the 
window, the pleasure of seeing the dainty 
little ereature outweighing the pain of seeing 
her by the side of a rival. 

The young people had moved on down 
the street, the young man walking with a 
easy, swinging stride that bespoke a great 
reserve of strength, Amelia tripping along at 
his side, looking up at him, her pretty faee 
smiling and dimpled with happiness. 

It seemed to the wretehed invalid that he 
could hear the tones of her sweet voice, could 
see the delicate pink of her cheeks deepening 
against the milky whiteness of her skin. 

At that moment Arthur Raymond loathed 
himself and his weakness; but he pitied him- 
self, too, and in his heart reproached the girl 
who had deserted her old comrade in his 
illness for the new acquaintance with his 
strength and vigor. 

Self-scom, self-pity, grief and physical weak- 
ness produced their effect, and he dropped 
back into the chair sobbing. 

• In his absorption he failed to notice the en- 
trance into the room of his sister, a robust, 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


9 


blooming girl two years older than he. She 
had opened the door and entered ; her first 
expression one of disgust at the close atmos- 
phere of the room, her next one of deep love 
and pity, as her eyes fell on her sobbing 
brother. 

“Arthur dear!” she cried, running quickly 
to him and kneeling tenderly by his side so 
that she might comfort him; “what is the 
matter? Are you feeling worse?” 

Arthur brushed away the tears of which 
he was ashamed and, having controlled him- 
self, exclaimed bitterly : 

“Oh, Margie! why am I not strong and 
well like you? Why are other men big and 
strong while I am a physical wreck?” 

Between Arthur and Maggie there had 
always been the strong tie of comradeship. 
They had been playmates and confidants of 
each other through all the years of their lives ; 
so that it was easier for Margie than it would 
have been for another to guess correctly at 
the immediate cause of her brother’s emo- 
tion. 

It was she who had been talking with 
Amelia from the parlor window; and seeing 
Arthur by the window from which he could 


10 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


have seen Amelia and her escort, she leaped, 
with a woman’s quick intuition, to the truth. 

But she found it easier to guess the cause 
of his grief than to find the means to allay 
it. He was weak and sickly ; he was set apart 
from the life that went on about him; and 
that life inevitably went on as if he no longer 
existed. Amelia always asked solicitously 
about him, and would be rejoiced to see him 
well again; but even the loving sister could 
not blame her little neighbor for enjoying life. 

“You are big enough if you were only 
strong enough, Arthur dear,” she said with a 
tender futility. She could think of no word of 
comfort, so woman like she tried to lead her 
brother away from the subject that grieved 
him. 

“So much the worse for me to be big and 
so weak,” he answered. “Why, a two-year- 
old baby could master me. And you”— he 
looked her over half enviously — “you could 
handle me as if I were a doll. How well and 
strong you are, Margie!” he exclaimed with 
a sudden look of wonder. “It seems as if 
you had been getting stronger and heartier 
while I grew weaker. Is it because you are so 
happy being in love with Herbert?” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


11 


Margie blushed and laughed in a low, shy- 
way. “I suppose,” she said archly, “I’m not 
any worse for loving and being loved, but” 
— and her honest face grew serious — “I am so 
well and strong because Herbert has taught 
me how to be so.” 

“Herbert!” said Arthur with the ghost of 
a smile; “why, Margie, you’ve always been 
well.” 

“Not as well as now, though,” she cried 
eagerly. “ Just look at me ! ” 

She sprang to her feet and stood before 
him, her figure erect. Then she turned about 
and stood for a moment with her back to him. 

“Don’t you notice any change?” she de- 
manded, facing him again. 

“I notice you’re awfully nice to look at,” 
he answered, wishing in his heart that he 
could stand as straight and have so fall a 
chest. 

“Thank you!” she laughed; “being my 
brother you may compliment me as much as 
you please. But don’t you see how free I 
am; and how muscular? See m€ bend and 
reach!” 

Unconscious of the grace and beauty of her 
movements, she raised her arms slowly until 


12 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


they were extended their full length over her 
head, then brought them back and out and 
down, her plastic body moving in harmony 
with her arms. A moment later her fingers 
were touching the floor. 

“There!” she said with a gasp and awry 
face; “I’d show you how supple I am, but 
indeed the air in here is so close that it al- 
most makes me ill to breathe it.” 

“I know it must be bad,” he assented. 
“But Margie! what does it mean? You are 
as graceful as an actress.” 

“As some actress, if you please,” she 
laughed. “Why, Herbert coaxed me to get rid 
of my corsets almost the first thing after 
we were engaged; and I have been exercising 
and walking and doing all sorts of unladylike 
things ever since. That’s why I’m so well. 
And I am well, Arthur dear. How I wish 
I could give you some of my strength.” 

“I don’t want any of your strength, dear 
girl,” he answered gloomily; “but I wish 
I had some of my own. I suppose Herbert 
doesn’t know of any magical way of making 
me strong, does he?” 

“Would you like to talk with him about 
it?” Margie demanded eagerly. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


13 


Arthur laughed wearily. 

“I believe you think your Herbert can do 
for me what the doctors can’t,” he said. “I 
guess you’re well and strong because you’re 
happy in your love. There’s no such luck 
for me.” 

Margie stroked his hand tenderly. Her 
own happiness made her the more sympathetic 
with him. 

“I don’t know that Herbert can tell you 
how to get well, Arthur, but he is so honest 
and good that it will do you no harm to 
have a talk with him. You know you haven’t 
seen him since our engagement.” 

“Bring him up to-night, Margie,” he said, 
turning his head away. “ I’d like to know him 
better for your sake. There may not be such 
a great deal of time. I wish the doctor 
would be honest with me; I’m not afraid of 
the truth.” 

“Don’t, Arthur dear! please don’t,” mur- 
mured Margie, a catch in her voice. 


CHAPTER II 


It is a common and, perhaps, a humane 
device to keep a siek person from a knowledge 
of the severity of his illness ; but it is almost 
as eommon for the supersensitive invalid to 
beeome subtly aware of the changes in feeling 
that seem to eharge the atmosphere. 

Never before had Arthur manifested so 
hopeless and gloomy a disposition concerning 
his illness. It was while he talked to his 
favorite sister, Margaret, who had been sent 
to him to insure an absence of suspieion on 
his part that Dr. Brayton was giving his 
views on Arthur’s case to Mr. and Mrs. Ray- 
mond; the former of whom had taken the 
unwonted step of leaving his office in the 
middle of the afternoon in order that he 
might have a personal interview with the 
family physician. 

Mr. Raymond had vital reasons of his 
own for wishing to know definitely the con- 
dition in which the doctor found his sons; 
and he had waited in the library, while the 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


15 


physician was upstairs, a prey to the sadness 
which a parent must feel who has two sons 
in the condition that his were. 

In his heart he harbored no hope. Robert 
had been insane since his sixth year ; and after 
a consultation of specialists it had been de- 
cided that there was a tumor pressing on the 
brain, impossible of safe removal, and which 
rendered recovery impossible. 

“Do you see any change for the better in 
Robert?” the father asked when the physi- 
cian came downstairs. 

“There is no change for the better, my dear 
sir. I regret to say that I can offer you no 
hope of your eldest son’s recovery.” 

The lines in the father’s face were tense; 
he had nerved himself for this answer, and for 
worse. He gently touched the hand of his 
wife, put out toward him. 

“And Arthur? Does he seem any better?” 

“I cannot detect any amelioration of the — 
er — ” 

“Doctor,” broke in Mr. Raymond huskily, 
“you know better than anyone the import- 
ance to me of your answer ; but I must have 
the truth without palliation. I can bear it. 
Tell me plainly what his condition is.” 


16 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


It was hard for the physician to give a 
direct answer, but it was plain that Mr. Ray- 
mond would not be put off with anything less. 
Dr. Brayton cleared his throat, rehearsed in 
his mind the customary platitudes as to there 
being hope always; that a favorable turn 
might come at any time, and like meaning- 
less phrases ; then answered : 

“I regret to say, Mr. Raymond, that I 
have exhausted the resources of medicine 
in the effort to cope with the insidious dis- 
ease which has fastened — er — ^fastened — ^which 
to simplify, is slowly but surely sapping your 
son’s life forces.” 

“My God ! ” murmured the father, pressing 
his hand on his heart. 

“Perhaps a change — ” suggested the 
mother in a broken voice. 

“Would a change of air, of scene, do any 
good, doctor? If a voyage to Europe, a so- 
journ in the country, anywhere, would do any 
good—” 

“I always feel,” answered the doctor in 
his most unctuous tone, “that it is wrong to 
send a patient from home in such a case. 
Keep Arthur with you. And yet,” he added 
in his professional tone of comfort and hope. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


17 


“I do not give up. I am prescribing now one 
of the strongest drugs in the pharmacopoeia 
and shall look for some improvement. This 
is a most peculiar case — one of the strangest 
in my experience. The manifestations are— er 
— so— er — subtle, the progress so — er — insid- 
ious — that it has been extremely difficult — 
er — in short — er — it has taxed even my re-, 
sources to — er — cope with it.” 

“Doomed ! ” murmured the father, his hand 
seeking out his wife’s. “Our poor boy! and 
he seemed so well a child!” 

“I watched over him with the tenderest 
care,” sobbed the heart-broken mother. 
“When Robert was lost to us I determined 
that no harm should come to Arthur, and 
yet it has found him.” 

This was the story that was kept from 
Arthur but told to his sisters in order that 
nothing might be spared by any of them in 
aiding in the softening of the time that re- 
mained to the invalid. 

Margie alone refused to give up hope, 
and when she told the story to Herbert that 
evening he protested vehemently that the 
case could not, in reason, be so hopeless. 

“He wants to see you, Herbert,” Margie 


18 A STRENUOUS LOVER 

said. “You and I will go up there for a 
little while. We cannot remain long, for the 
air in his room is awful; but I know it will 
do him good to talk with you. Dear old Ar- 
thur ! If only I could give him some of my 
strength ! ” 

“You have no more than you ought to 
have,” said Herbert, drawing her to his side 
with passionate fondness ; “ and no more than 
every woman ought to have. But let us go 
see Arthur. I have little knowledge enough, 
but before I would give up a human life I 
would fight to the last gasp. I tell you, Mar- 
gie, the doctors put all their trust in drugs 
and poisons, and have none left for nature. 
And yet nature keeps fighting hard and point- 
ing out the right way all the time.” 

“Come to Arthur!” cried Margie, her 
eyes glowing with the love and confidence 
she felt. Indeed, it seemed to her that it was 
enough to inspire one with new life only to 
look into the brown eyes of her lover, and to 
listen to his clear-cut words and incisive tone. 

And surely there was a vivifying force in 
the earnestness and conviction with which 
Herbert spoke. 

Maude was with Arthur when they went 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


19 


tip to his room, but she gladly accepted the 
relief of their presence and went down to 
breathe a fresher, purer air than was per- 
mitted to invade the sick-room. 

There was a few commonplaces exchanged 
at first, but presently Herbert exclaimed in a 
tone of dismay : 

“This air is enough to kill you, Arthur; 
I’d be sick if I stayed here an hour.” 

“I can’t stand a draft,” said Arthur, list- 
lessly. 

“Is the air like this all the time?” Herbert 
demanded. 

“It is freshened every morning,” Arthur 
replied. 

“ Every morning ! Merciful Heaven ! Why, 
Arthur, don’t they know that every breath 
of this polluted air you take into your lungs 
robs you of an appreciable amount of vitality? 
Does the doctor know you have your room 
like this?” 

“What does it matter?” Arthur demanded 
with a sudden, fitful vivacity. “Do you think 
I don’t notice how kind everybody is to me 
since the doctor was here this afternoon. 
Not but they’re always kind, but — Oh, well ! 
suppose the air is bad?” 


20 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


Margie looked from her brother to her 
lover in consternation. Herbert was silent 
for a while, seemingly oblivious for the time 
of the presence of the others. Suddenly he 
broke out : 

“Arthur, I wouldn’t give up if I were you. 
If the doctor gives up, so much the more 
reason why you should take hold and help 
nature.” 

“ I guess nature’s given up too,” answered 
Arthur hopelessly. “ It’ll all very well for you 
and Margie to talk, Herbert, for you two are 
strong and well; but what can I do? Look 
at me !” 

“I’ve been looking at you. Arthur. You’ve 
got the frame for a big man ; and you’ve got 
a jaw and a chin that ought to make you 
get well in spite of all the doctors that ever 
poured poison into foolish patients. If you 
will make up your mind to be well, you will 
be. You say Margie’s well and strong. Is 
Maude strong, too?” 

“Why, no, she isn’t.” 

“Well, Margie would be like Maude if she 
were as foolish as Maude. She was going the 
same way until I persuaded her to take up 
physical culture.” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


21 


Arthur laughed bitterly. “A niee subjeet 
for physical culture I’d be! How would I 
begin?” 

“Begin by opening your windows, Arthur. 
I tell you drafts won’t hurt you. See here, 
Arthur ! You’re Margie’s brother, and you 
must live to be mine. I’m not a doctor or a 
prophet, but I vow I believe you’ve as many 
years ahead of you as I have.” 

“I wish you were a prophet,” said Arthur; 
but Margie noticed that his tone was not as 
hopeless as it had been. 

“I’ve been studying your face, Arthur, 
and I know from your steady eye, your square 
jaw and firm chin that you have courage. 
I believe I can tell you something without 
danger of scaring you to death.” 

“Go on!” said Arthur quickly; “what is 
it?” 

“It’s what you’ve guessed already,” said 
Herbert, sharply. Margie put out her hand 
in terror, but Herbert went on: “The doctor 
says you can’t live.” 

Arthur fell back in his chair, paler, if that 
were possible, than before; then he smiled at 
Margie as she dropped with a cry of pity at 
his feet. 


22 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“I thought so, dear girl,” he said 
gently; “I was sure of it the moment I 
looked into mother’s eyes. Well, Amelia 
won’t mind it so much now, and I’m glad 
she won’t.” 

“Amelia Winsted?” demanded Herbert, 
whose clear eyes had never left Arthur’s face. 
Margie nodded. “You love that pretty little 
thing?” 

“They were playmates since Amelia was a 
baby and Arthur used to draw her about 
in his little wagon.” 

“And you’ll let that fellow Morgan have 
her?” Herbert demanded in his incisive way. 
“I know something about him. He belongs to 
my athletic club. He’s just begun to practice 
criminal law, and if reports are correct he’s 
as bad as any client he’s ever likely to have. 
Don’t let that fellow win her to break her 
heart, Arthur.” 

“What can I do? If I thought there was 
a living change — ” He stopped and looked 
eagerly at Herbert. 

“May I open the windows, Arthur? Re- 
member ! the doctor says you can’t live. 
What will it matter if you go a week sooner 
or later?” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


23 


“Herbert!” gasped Margie, in horror at 
her lover’s brutality. 

“Open the windows, Herbert!” cried Ar- 
thur ; “give me some fresh air ! You are right 
in that, anyhow. Margie, he’s right; and he 
goes about his work in the right way. Tell 
me what to do, Herbert; I swear I’ll follow 
your instructions to the letter.” 

Herbert was already opening the windows 
wide to let in the revivifying air. He stopped 
in front of them to inhale and exhale half 
a dozen long breaths before he returned to 
Arthur’s side. 

“Don’t take another drop of medicine, 
Arthur. If you are going to die, what is the 
use of poisoning yourself?” 

“ But mother will never consent,” said Mar- 
gie. “She believes in medicine as she does in 
heaven; it is like a superstition to her.” 

“Don’t let her know, then. Pour out 
the dose regularly and throw it out of the win- 
dow. I hate deceit, but you are not strong 
enough to fight yet, and your life is your 
own. The doctor confesses his inability to 
save you; so I think you are justified in re- 
fusing to drug yourself.” 

“Tell me what to do,” said Arthur, breath- 


24 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


ing more deeply of the fresh air than he had 
done in months of the foul gases which had 
composed his sole atmosphere. 

“To-night do nothing but stand by the 
window and take deep, deep breaths. To- 
morrow I’ll see you and give you instructions 
about some light exercises. If you find you 
have more appetite than usual to-morrow 
don’t eat all you want to, but eat slowly 
and only of plain food. Stand up and let 
me see you breathe.” 

Arthur stood up in front of the window 
and breathed as deeply as he knew how. 
Herbert watched him carefully. 

“You don’t know how,” he said. “Take 
the air in slowly through your nose; when 
you think your lungs are full as they can 
hold, put back your shoulders and take in 
more air; then let it all go out through the 
mouth as quickly as possible. Now try that ! ” 

Arthur followed the directions and pres- 
ently with the delight of a child in a new 
game, was breathing in and expelling the pure 
air. He would have continued the exercise 
until he was exhausted if Herbert had not 
stopped him and urged him to moderation. 

“But I want to say this, Arthur,” he said 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


25 


in that earnest, eonvineed tone of his, “you 
will get well; don’t doubt it for a minute. 
I ean see it in the way you take hold of the 
thing.’’ 

“Really, do you think so?” 

“On my honor, I do.” 

No one eould hear Herbert Courtney speak 
like that without believing him. Arthur 
laughed aloud with the glee of a ehild. He 
was sure that already he was feeling better 
than he had done for months. 

“Ah, but,” said he dolefully a moment 
later, “before I am well Amelia will be lost to 
me. And anyhow I can never be as strong 
as that Morgan.” 

“I can’t promise you anything about 
Amelia,” said Herbert in his downright way, 
“but I can tell you you can be as strong 
and stronger than that fellow if you will 
try. Why, although I’m three inches shorter 
than he is, I wouldn’t be afraid to take my 
chances with him in a rough-and-tumble. 
He’s a better sparrer than I am, and could 
use me up with the gloves, of course. And 
I was once pretty nearly as weak as you are.” 

“Really?” 

“On my honor.” 


CHAPTER III 


It happened, fortunately for Arthur’s faith 
in Herbert, that the change from the close 
atmosphere of the sick room to the fresh air 
of heaven produced an effect little less than 
magical. 

To Arthur, indeed, it was marvelous that 
so much fresh air as he had had the courage 
to admit to his room had not brought on 
pneumonia at the least; so that when, in- 
stead of being a victim to that fell disease, he 
actually found himself the following morning 
really better for the first time in many weeks, 
he was prepared to believe and act upon any 
advice Herbert gave him. 

Mrs. Raymond, it is true, was nearly 
frantic when she discovered that Arthur not 
only had his window open in the daytime, 
but had it open all night; and when he ob- 
stinately refused to allow it to be closed, 
she sent in haste for Dr. Brayton. 

The latter, when he came, listened with a 
solemn visage to the story of the revolt of 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


27 


his patient, little dreaming of how complete 
that revolt was, however. 

“I will speak to him,” he said, with an 
air of being able to settle the matter without 
difficulty. 

Accordingly, he followed Mrs. Raymond to 
the sickroom, and cast a swift glance at his 
patient. That glance was sufficient to assure 
him that Arthur was slightly improved. 

“Well, Arthur,” he said blandly, “what is 
this I hear about you? Sleeping with an 
open window, eh?” , 

“I’m better already,” said Arthur, with a 
dogged air, as if he had no intention of beat- 
ing a retreat from his position. 

The doctor smiled, and turned compla- 
cently to Mrs. Raymond. 

“You had that prescription filled, Mrs. 
Raymond? Yes? And Arthur took two 
doses last night? H’m ! I did not wish to 
raise false hopes, but I believed that I had 
found the means at last of routing the enemy. 
You need not be alarmed now; Arthur will 
be better for a little stronger air now that 
the ’nedicine is acting. The two will work 
together. The desire— er — for more air— er— 
was probably instinctive^yes, instinctive. 



28 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


You mil go on with the medicine, please. 
Yes, yes ! we shall have him out again one 
of these days. But we must make haste 
slowly, Arthur; make haste slowly.” 

He was so pleased with his phrase that he 
repeated it unctuously two or three times, 
and quite overlooked Arthur’s amazed dis- 
gust at his easy claim for the nasty drug, 
which Arthur had poured into the wash basin. 

But that episode was fortunate, too, for 
it gave him renewed courage to discredit 
everything the doctor told him, and rid him 
of the compunction he had felt in even de- 
ceiving him by his silence. 

“Such a fraud as he is,” he said scorn- 
fully to Herbert that evening, “is not worth 
considering in any way.” 

And he occupied very little of their 
thoughts, for Herbert had brought with him 
a book of easy, simple exercises, which Arthur 
was to practice, and which Herbert demon- 
strated to him, so that he might have no 
difficulty in comprehending them. 

“You may find yourself a little sore at 
first,” Herbert explained, “but you muft not 
mind that, and it will soon pass away. By 
the way, don’t hesitate to drink all the water 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


29 


you want; not iced water, but merely cool 
water; it will be good for you.” 

Arthur’s enthusiasm was so great, and he 
was so elated with the belief that his recovery 
was a question of days, that Herbert went 
into a long explanation of the theory of the 
scheme of cure that he advocated. 

“In a few words,” he said finally, “the 
idea is this : that if you permit Nature to 
work in her own way, and only help her 
with all your power, she will cure you, if 
you are curable; for the instant anything is 
wrong with you she fires the alarm, which 
you will heed if you are sensible. Don’t stuff 
yourself with food or drugs, which is like 
throwing stones on a dying fire; but help 
your system by giving it a fair chance. As- 
sist it to eliminate the trouble within you, 
and don’t add to its cares. You need lots 
of fresh air to help purify your blood, which 
is working hard to free your system of what- 
ever- is deleterious there; you need plenty of 
good, pure water ; the least amount of whole- 
some food that will serve; and such exercise 
as will aid the lungs and the blood to do their 
part.” 

“Well,” laughed Arthur, “I don’t under- 


30 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


stand anything about it, but I am ready to 
do whatever you say.” 

“But that is treating me as if I pretended 
to the mysterious knowledge of a physician, 
which I do not,” protested Herbert. “I ap- 
peal to your common sense, and you must 
use it. There is nothing about this natural 
system that cannot be easily mastered; and 
you must master it. The main thing about 
it is that it teaches you to keep well.” 

“I’ll study any books you bring me, and 
I’ll listen to anything you say,” answered 
Arthur, earnestly. “There never was a more 
sincere disciple than I am, I can assure 
you.” 

Just before leaving him that evening Margie 
said to him, thinking to make him happy : 
“Amelia was delighted when I told her you 
were feeling better to-day, and said she hoped 
she could soon see you.” 

“ I don’t think she cares much about that,” 
answered Arthur, his face falling. “She might 
have seen me lots of times when she didn’t 
take the trouble. I guess she hadn’t much 
use for a sick fellow.” 

“Do you think she ought to have?” Her- 
bert inquired quietly. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


31 


“Well,” answered Arthur, in a hurt tone, 
“I hadn’t any claim on her, but we have 
been playmates, and it seems to me she ought 
not to desert me just because I was sick. 
Surely you don’t uphold her in it?” 

“ If you really want to know what I think,” 
answered Herbert, after a moment of delibera- 
tion, “I’ll tell you frankly. Do you want 
to know?” 

“Of course I do.” 

“Well, I think you are considering your 
own side of the case only. She has not de- 
serted you in any sense. She has inquired 
after you every day. True, she has not spent 
much time with you, but you must remember 
that sle is well and active, and craves the 
companionship of those who are like herself. 
And she is e titled to just that. Even if she 
had been engaged to you, I think it would 
have been unnatural and selfish of you to 
want her to spend much time up here. I 
hope I haven’t hurt your feelings, Arthur.” 

“Well,” answered Arthur, “you’ve given 
me something to think about. I suppose 
I have been horribly selfish.” 

“Not any worse than sick folks generally 
are,” said Herbert. “I wonder if it ever 


32 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


occurred to you that a sick man was not 
just the sort to inspire love in a healthy 
girl. I tell you, Arthur, that you’ve got to 
get well before you can make Amelia care 
very much for you.” 

“To hear you talk,” said Arthur, with a 
short laugh, “one would think you had no 
sentiment in you. For my part, Amelia and I 
are nothing but old friends, and I don’t pre- 
tend to say what she ought or ought not 
do ; but I do know that if she had cared half 
as much for me as I do for her, she would 
have been up here to see me twice as often 
as she has.” 

It was a long time before the subject was 
renewed between the two, but when it was, 
Arthur was forced to admit that he had not 
at this time fully comprehended Herbert’s 
meaning. 

He did very quickly comprehend, however, 
the system of natural cure which Herbert 
had brought to his attention, and he both 
studied it and practiced it with a fervor and 
steadiness that brought their reward. 

There were times when it seemed to him 
that he was not gaining at all; but he was 
sure to laugh at himself immediately, for he 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


33 


was going about the house freely in a few 
weeks, and as the months slipped by he found 
himself quite forgetting that he had been an 
invalid. 

One day the complacency of the doctor, 
who calmly appropriated to himself all the 
credit of the wonderful transformation, so 
annoyed Arthur that in the presence of his 
mother he exclaimed : 

“Do you know. Dr. Brayton, I think I owe 
it to you to tell you that I never took a 
drop of your medicine from the day you said 
I was going to die. I made believe take it, 
but poured it in the basin.” 

The doctor changed color, but had his 
benignant smile instantly ready for service. 

“Well, well,” he said, “then you were 
cured by the previous prescription. I often 
wondered why that had not taken hold 
better.” 

“What?” gasped Arthur. 

“It is a common error,” said the doctor, 
speaking rather to Mrs. Raymond than to 
Arthur, “that the uninformed fall into of— 
er— imagining that because they — er — do not 
understand a phenomenon, that, therefore, 
it is not comprehensible to others. Now, in 
3 


34 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


the case of your — er — son, I was operating 
along certain well-defined — er — lines, and — er 
— the value of each remedy was in each — er — 
what I may call cumulative effect, and — er — 
correlative value. If effect followed cause in 
a regular and easily recognized order there 
might, indeed, be little need for that exhaust- 
ive — er — study which is rendered imperative — 
er — to simplify is necessary to obtain a de- 
gree.” 

The doctor felt that he had made a pro- 
nounced success of his speech, whatever in his 
secret heart he thought about Arthur’s cure, 
and Mrs. Raymond was divided between ad- 
miration of the family physician and dismay 
at Arthur’s perverseness. 

To Arthur, his mother’s attitude toward 
the doctor and his useless medicine was ab- 
surd ; to his mother, his attitude was almost 
wicked. She had been educated in a posi- 
tively superstitious reverence for drugs, and 
could not understand or be patient with any 
such radical innovation as that by which Ar- 
thur declared he had been put on the high 
road to recovery. 

Arthur was not old enough to know that 
it is always so when any change in estab- 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


35 


lished customs is proposed. To him it seemed 
quite enough that the way was better, and 
he could never get over his amazement that 
anyone should prefer to die in the old way 
rather than live aecording to the new. 

However, he did not worry himself greatly 
over the abstract side of the question, but 
gave himself up to the full enjoyment of the 
exhilaration of finding himself daily growing 
stronger. 

Besides, he had another distraetion, which 
at times rivaled his interest in his progress 
from illness and prostration to health and 
vigor; the better he beeame in health the 
greater grew his determination to save Amelia 
from the dark-browed scoundrel who seemed 
to have fascinated her. 

He had accepted Herbert’s statement about 
Morgan without any qualifying eonditions, 
and was sure in his own mind that he was 
moved by very little else than disinterested 
affection for his old playmate in wishing to 
rid her of the attentions of her suitor. 

It was well along into the winter before he 
met Charles Morgan, but he had seen Amelia 
almost every day, and was on the friendliest 
terms imaginable with her. 


36 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


In compliance with Herbert’s advice he had 
refrained from talking about his illness, either 
to Amelia or to anyone else ; but it had been 
impossible for him to refrain from giving 
free vent to his enthusiasm on the subject 
of physical culture. 

Amelia, who was the most light-hearted 
little creature in the world, listened to him, 
and laughed at him. She assured him gayly 
that if he was being helped by exercising and 
eating only two meals a day he certainly 
ought to keep on. 

“I only wonder,” she said merrily, “why 
you don’t come down to one meal a day.” 

“ I sometimes think of it,” Arthur answered 
stoutly, whereat Amelia burst into a gale 
of laughter whieh even Arthur’s seriousness 
could not resist, and he was compelled to 
laugh with her. 

“What!” cried Amelia, on one oeeasion, 
“go without my breakfast, and take nothing 
but a cup of coffee?” 

“Oh!” replied Arthur, with all the horror 
of a new convert, “eoffee is the first thing to 
give up, beeause it is one of the worst poisons 
you—” 

“Arthur,” laughed Amelia, “I shall not 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


37 


give up a thing. If I did, I know what the 
end would be ; you’d have me wearing bloom- 
ers before I was a year older.” 

Arthur looked at her slender, corseted waist 
and wished he dared talk to her about that ; 
but he could not risk offending her, so sighed, 
and said : 

“There are worse things than bloomers, 
Amelia.” 

All of this was a huge joke to the merry 
little creature, and she naturally talked about 
it to Charles Morgan when he came to see 
her. He, however, saw what she herself did 
not suspect, that underneath all her raillery 
of her old playmate was a depth of affection 
that bordered very closely on love. 

This made him sardonic in his humor, 
of which he made Arthur the butt ; and when 
he passed the Raymond windows and saw 
Arthur sitting there, he could not keep a 
hateful sneer from curling his lip. 

Finally the two rivals met in Amelia’s 
parlor, and to Amelia’s intense amusement 
Arthur, although scrupulously polite, showed 
very plainly that he meant to remain until 
the other took his departure. 

Living next door as he did, he had such 


38 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


a decided advantage that Morgan prudently 
declined the contest, and betook himself home 
earlier than usual, but only after exercising 
his bitter wit at Arthur’s expense. 

Several times afterward this happened, until 
Morgan had come to hate Arthur with a fero- 
cious hatred; and they never met without 
exchanging glances which would make deep 
wounds had they been sword-points. 

They had never met excepting in Amelia’s 
presence, although Morgan had tried to con- 
trive such a meeting, until one evening, just 
about dusk, when Arthur was crossing Morn- 
ingside Park on his way home from his 
father’s office. 

He was in a very happy mood, for he was 
carrying a bunch of violets which he had 
bought for Amelia, knowing those fragrant 
little flowers to be her favorites. 

He was not by any means near his full 
strength, but he stepped along with the brisk- 
ness of health and the enjoyment of physical 
movement, but stopped suddenly at the sound 
of a swift footstep behind him and hearing 
his own name pronounced in peremptory 
tones. 

He knew the voice, and his heart began to 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


39 


beat violently as he turned and faced Charles 
Morgan. 

“What do you want?” he demanded. 

“I want a word with you,” was the curt, 
ominous answer. 


CHAPTER IV 


Arthur’s heart beat violently when he 
found himself confronting Charles Morgan, 
and if he had followed his first impulse he 
would have turned and run away; but that 
was only the first impulse, and as he was very 
far from being a coward, he faced the other, 
head well up. 

Both were silent for a few moments. Ar- 
thur waiting for Morgan to speak, and the 
latter slowly taking an up-and-down glance 
over him, a sneer gathering on his evil face. 

“Oh, violets!” he said presently, his tone 
fairly charged with insult. 

Arthur had been mastering himself, and 
was sufficiently under control now to simply 
look at Morgan without speaking; though 
there was a world of meaning in the way he 
slowly carried the bunch of violets to his face 
and inhaled their delicious odor. 

“What are you going to do with those 
flowers?” demanded Morgan, driven into open 
anger by Arthur’s appearance of nonchalance. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


41 


“Is that any business of yours?” Arthur 
demanded quietly. 

“If I make it my business, it is; and I do 
make it my business. See here, young fellow, 
you and I might as well understand each 
other right away.” 

“I certainly would like to understand 
what you mean by stopping me and talking 
to me in this way,” Arthur answered. 

“Don’t be afraid; I’ll let you know,” Mor- 
gan sneered. “Oh, you needn’t look around 
for help; I shan’t hurt you unless I have 
to.” 

Nevertheless, he took a step nearer to 
Arthur, and betrayed such malignity in his 
expression that his words were far more a 
threat than an assurance of peacefulness. 

“I’m not afraid of you.” 

■^‘Oh, aren’t you? Well, you’d better be, 
for I’m the wrong sort of a man to run up 
against ; and I take this opportunity to warn 
you of it. And I want to tell you that there’s 
a certain house you’d better make it your 
business to keep out of as much as possible.” 

“Certainly,” retorted Arthur indignantly, 
“you take a very gentlemanly way of making 
your wishes known. Do you suppose I would 


42 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


be so mean spirited as to retire in the face of 
a threat, even if I would retire at all? You 
are a poor judge of human nature, Mr. Mor- 
gan.” 

“You’re a worse, or you wouldn’t anger 
me with your fool talk. Don’t you know, you 
sorry excuse for a man, that I could handle 
you as I would a baby? Now, take my ad- 
vice, and don’t cross my path; it won’t be 
healthy for you, if you do.” 

Arthur could have cried with rage at his 
own impotence. To think that he must stand 
there and listen to such words, unable to 
knock down the man who uttered them. 

“You are stronger than I am now,” he 
retorted passionately, “but the day will come 
when you will not dare address such language 
to me. If you were a gentleman you would 
not do it now; but I suppose it is all one 
should expect from such as you.” 

He turned as he ended, and moved on his 
way, his legs trembling under him, so great 
was his disturbance. Charles Morgan sprang 
fiercely after him and caught him by the arm 
with such a grip as told Arthur what strength 
the man had. 

“Don’t drive me too far,” Morgan hissed, 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


43 


his face distorted, and looking all the more 
evil for the half light it was in, “or I’ll be 
tempted to give you a lesson now.” He shook 
him as a terrier might a rat. 

Arthur whirled about, livid with wrath at 
being so used, and, perhaps, the angrier that 
he felt himself so unequal to coping with the 
other. 

“You cur, you coward!” he cried, and 
struck at Morgan with all his force. 

But Morgan warded off the blow with an 
indifferent ease that was maddening in itself, 
and then threw Arthur from him as if he had 
been a child. 

“ You fool I ” he cried, with a jeering laugh, 
“don’t you know a man when you meet one? 
(Count yourself lucky that I don’t take you 
over my knee and spank some sense into 
you.” 

Arthur picked himself up from the grass, 
on which he had fallen, panting, and mechan- 
ically brushing his clothes. 

“And mind you, Arthur Raymond, if you 
come calling at the Binghams’ when I’m 
there. I’ll give you a lesson before little 
Amelia, and one you won’t forget in a hurr}^ ; 
and here” — he leaped forward as he spoke and 


44 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


snatched the violets out of Arthur’s hand — 
“give me those flowers! I’ll show you!” 
He began tearing the bunch in shreds, when 
Arthur, with a cry of rage and despair, threw 
himself on the bully and tried to rescue his 
flowers. 

“You will, will you?” hissed Morgan, and 
with a refinement of cruelty and malignity, 
caught Arthur as if he had been a child, and 
literally spanked him. 

The man’s strength, his own impotence, 
and the indignity, brought from Arthur’s 
heart a sob of shame and humiliation, and he 
burst into tears as Morgan released him. He 
staggered against a tree, and there he stood, 
trying in vain to choke back the convulsive 
sobs, while Morgan laughed at him. 

“You puny caricature!” sneered Morgan, 
“are you convinced now that I am the wrong 
person to fool with? Go find some other girl 
who will admire your good looks without 
caring whether you are a whole man or only 
a puny half one. I won’t be crossed,” he 
added, with the ferocity of a wild beast, “and 
if you don’t take warning by what has taken 
place here, worse will happen to you. Keep 
out of my way, and I’ll say nothing of taking 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


45 


you over my knee ; but if you try to brave it 
out, and come sneaking around Amelia, I’ll 
make you the laughing stock of all your ac- 
quaintances.” 

Arthur stood silent, taking deep, convul- 
sive breaths. Morgan passed him on the way 
across the park, but turned once to shake his 
finger warningly at him and to say: “Mind 
you, you whelp ! I’m always better than my 
word.” 

He walked on, his head erect, his broad 
shoulders swaying slightly in harmony with 
his elastic, swinging stride, the perfect picture 
of a strong, stalwart athlete. 

Arthur, still panting, still livid, still leaning 
weakly against the tree, gazed after him and 
noted these signs of masterful strength. 

“My God! My God!” he moaned. “I am 
shamed and disgraced ! How can I ever look 
at Amelia again ? He will let her know, he is 
sure to, and I shall see her laugh at me. 
Oh, my God ! My God ! Why didn’t I die 
rather than live to be like this? But I 
will shoot him ! He shall not live to say 
he has so insulted me. I do not care what 
becomes of me ; but he shall not live to 
laugh at me!” 


46 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


He started off at a rapid, unsteady pace, 
so frantic with his shame and impotence that 
he recked nothing of being seen by strangers 
in such a disordered condition. 

He was unconscious whither he went, ex- 
cepting that it was away from home; but, 
fortunately, the park was almost empty, and 
it was now so dark that his features could 
hardly have been distinguished save by one 
close to him. Still his steps were so unsteady, 
his manner so wild, that he must have at- 
tracted attention if there had been anyone to 
see him. 

“I will shoot him! I will shoot him!” he 
kept repeating to himself, though hardly con- 
scious of the meaning of his words, for his 
emotions were all concerned with his humilia- 
tion. 

“Arthur! Arthur! for heaven’s sake what 
is the matter?” 

He started, and stared, at the sound of the 
voice ; and when he recognized Herbert Court- 
ney in the speaker, he stopped and burst into 
tears. It was the culmination of his agony 
of mind. 

Herbert was shocked and alarmed, fearing 
anything, and his thoughts naturally leaping 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


47 


to Margie, he caught Arthur by the arm and 
cried anxiously : 

“What is it, Arthur? Is — is anything 

wrong with — with Margie?” 

“No,” gasped Arthur, shaken with sobs, 
“nothing. Oh, let me go! Let me go! I 
hate myself! I hate myself!” 

Reassured, but still alarmed and troubled, 
Herbert put his arm through Arthur’s, and 
with a glance about to see which way was 
most clear of passengers, led him in that 
direction. 

He walked slowly, and by his calmness and 
reserve force seemed to soothe Arthur, for the 
latter’s sobs ceased in a little while, and he 
walked quietly and silently until Herbert 
spoke. 

“What is the matter?” the latter asked 
as soon as he that felt Arthur was in a 
condition to speak with sufficient self-con- 
trol. 

Arthur hesitated. He had not meant to 
tell of his disgrace to anyone ; but there was 
something in the strong, self-contained man 
by his side that gave such promise of help 
that he could not withhold his confidence 
from him. He began in broken phrases, and 


48 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


with averted looks, and ended in tears and 
fieree denunciation. 

Herbert listened with a growing sternness, 
with a growing pallor, with clenched hands 
and with tightly closed jaws. If Morgan had 
been there the disparity in their height and 
bulk would not have prevented Herbert Court- 
ney from springing at his throat. 

“The brute! The cur!” he interjected 
under his breath, as the recital was in pro- 
gress. When it was ended he turned and 
caught both Arthur’s hands in his, and cried 
warmly: “It was the act of a low-bred cur! 
The shame is his, not yours, Arthur.” 

“ I’ll shoot him ! I’ll shoot him ! ” Arthur 
cried passionately. 

“You’ll do nothing so cowardly, or so 
foolish,” said Herbert promptly, master of 
himself in a moment as he saw how Arthur 
needed guidance. “What good would it do 
you to shoot him? And think of the harm ! ” 

“He has degraded me! He can make me 
a laughing stock! He will tell Amelia, and 
she will laugh at me!” 

“He has not degraded you, but himself. 
He cannot tell of what he has done without 
bringing more shame on himself than on you. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


49 


As for Amelia, she would turn to you at once 
with her sympathy if she knew of the mean 
advantage he had taken of a man still half 
sick; and, Arthur,” he added, with slow, im- 
pressive gravity, “to shoot him would be the 
act of a coward ; and you are not a coward.” 

“I will not rest under the insult! I will 
not! I will not!” 

“I do not ask you to. If it would do any 
good, I would make your cause my own and 
force him into a fight ; but that wouldn’t set 
you right with yourself.” 

“Will anything set me right as long as he 
lives?” Arthur said gloomily. 

“Would it not set you right to give him a 
dose of his own medicine?” 

“A dose of his own medicine! What do 
you mean?” 

“What if you were to whip him; whip him 
thoroughly?” 

“I whip him!” cried Arthur, with all the 
bitterness of self-scorn. 

“Why not?” 

“I was a baby in his hands. Herbert, he 
is a giant in strength. You will never know 
the humiliation of the moment when he caught 
me in his hands and — Oh, my God ! I cannot 
4 


50 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


think of it ! But I was powerless ; powerless, 
I tell you! I whip him?” 

“I do not say to-day, Arthur, nor to-mor- 
row; but I do say that if you will take the 
time you can build up a strength to which his 
is far inferior. I do say that if you will join a 
good gymnasium, and put yourself under the 
care of a competent instructor, you can learn 
to spar better than he can. You are as tall 
as he; you are endowed by nature with as 
good a frame ; you are now free from disease. 
Would you really like to beat him at his own 
game?” 

Arthur could not listen to the convincing 
tones of his sister’s lover without being af- 
fected. Besides, the progress he had already 
made was such as to make him ready to be- 
lieve that Herbert was not promising too 
much. He took the other’s hand in his and 
pressed it with passionate warmth. 

“I consider that already I owe you my 
life, Herbert,” he said. “Set me in the way of 
accomplishing as much as you say, and I shall 
owe you my honor, without which my life is 
of little value. Tell me what to do.” 

“Remember, I promise nothing for to- 
morrow, nor next week, nor next month.” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


51 


“If I know I am on the way I can wait.” 

“Can you wait a year, two years, three 
years, maybe?” 

“So long?” 

“You will be moving toward the goal all 
the time. It is a great result, Arthur, to 
begin with a man just off a sick bed, just 
saved from the grave, in fact, and in three 
years make him fit to cope with one of the 
best athletes, one of the best amateur pugi- 
lists in the country.” 

“And lose Amelia while I wait?” 

“Is honor or Amelia most dear?” 

“Honor!” was the passionate response. 
“What would Amelia care for me, dishonored, 
shamed?” 

“Then don’t let Amelia stand between you 
and honor.” 

“I can’t give her up, either.” 

“Why need you? You can see her while 
you avoid him. You may win her love long 
before you are ready to try conclusions with 
him. Besides, you are only twenty ; and if he 
wins Amelia, it will be because she loves him 
better than she loves you.” 

“You can talk calmly because you are 
successful in love.” 


52 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Never mind me, Arthur,” Herbert 
laughed, “but tell me, do you want Amelia 
unless she loves you best?” 

“No.” 

“Then why not let her make her own 
choice? Teach her to love you if you can, 
but be manly enough to rejoice in her happi- 
ness, even if some misery comes to you by 
the way.” 

“Rejoice if she gives her love to a man 
like Morgan?” 

“If she is the kind of girl to love that sort 
of man she is hardly the sort for an honest, 
upright, manly fellow like you.” 

“As if a good woman could not love a 
bad man !” 

“A weak and ignorant woman may. 
Weakness and ignorance are not goodness, 
though sometimes mistaken for it.” 

“Yours is an odd philosophy, Herbert. I 
wonder how well it would serve you if Margie 
were to throw you over. I think you’d squirm 
a little.” 

“My squirming has nothing to do with the 
correctness or incorrectness of my philosophy. 
Anyhow, I cannot comprehend a man wishing 
a woman who does not love him. If there is 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 53 

anything in this world that should be free, it 
is love. For that matter, you cannot coerce 
it, if you will; but this has nothing to do 
with gymnasium work. What do you say? 
Shall I have you made a member of my 
club?” 

“Morgan is a member.” 

“Morgan, I am happy to say, has resigned, 
and has joined our strongest rival, so that 
you will not meet him there; and he will 
know nothing about what you are doing.” 

“Then I’ll join; and I’ll work as man 
never worked before to be strong.” 

“And I’ll be there to see that you don’t 
overdo it,” laughed Herbert, putting his arm 
through Arthur’s, and so walking toward the 
Raymond house with him. 


CHAPTER V 


How far right was Herbert Courtney in 
saying that only a weah and ignorant woman 
would love an evil man ? Well, ignoranee is a 
word to cover a great deal of meaning. 

If a savage torture his prisoners, and takes 
the life of his enemies by stealth, thereby 
following the custom of his kind, is he doing 
wrong? According to the code of the civilized 
man he is; according to his own code he is 
doing well, and naturally. Call him ignorant, 
if you will ; but may you fairly call him weak, 
or imply that he is evil? There may be in the 
torturing, murdering savage the making of 
what we would call a high-minded gentleman. 
As he is, he is simply what his environment 
has made him. 

Amelia Winsted was what her environment 
had made her. Good women have loved and 
married bad men. Charles Morgan went into 
Amelia’s presence filled with a desire to please 
her, bringing all that was best in him to the 
surface so that he might win her. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


55 


Is it not the way of our world? Was he 
false and a hypocrite in doing as he did? 
Was Amelia any more open and frank than 
he? May she not have been pouting in her 
room, sulking over some grievance, the very 
minute before she went down smiling to greet 
him? 

Is it not the destiny of girls to marry? 
Must they not let their suitors pass in review 
before them, so that they may make their 
choice? Shall a girl study phrenology and 
physiognomy and palmistry and graphology, 
and what not, so that she may get a look 
at the soul of the man who comes courting 
her? 

No. Is it not rather a girl’s business to be 
as stylish as possible, as good tempered as 
possible, as coy as possible, as winsome as 
possible? And if a man be handsome, and 
virile, and masterful, and successful in busi- 
ness, is a girl to go into psychology to find 
out if the man be all that he pretends? 

Amelia had been brought up as other girls 
are. She had known few boys, and many 
girls. She had gone to school with girls, and 
played with them ; and she knew them pretty 
well. 


56 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


Boys and men? Well, they were delightful 
but unknown quantities. Wait until she was 
married; then she would know men. 

In the meantime Charles Morgan was un- 
deniably handsome, stalwart, masterful, de- 
voted to her, successful in business. Other 
girls envied her when she went out with him, 
and she felt perfectly safe when her hand was 
on his arm. She had a comfortable assurance 
that when he was by her side she was safe 
from the real or imaginary terrors that lurked 
in the city streets. 

She and Arthur had been playmates and 
friends all her life. She was three years 
younger than he was, which made them just 
the right age for good comradeship ; but they 
had not been lovers in any sense of the word, 
although for a year or more before he was 
confined to the house through illness Arthur 
had been growing out of companionship into 
love for her. 

It was while he was shut up in the house, 
dying, as almost everybody believed, that the 
strength and virility of Morgan had come into 
Amelia’s life. Perhaps she did not know it, 
but it was true, nevertheless, that she was 
attracted to Morgan because he was such a 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


57 


contrast to the poor, feeble, dying boy next 
door. 

Then Arthur was saved almost with his 
foot on the threshold of death’s door, and 
had entered into her life again, drawing on 
her sympathy by his weakness, having a 
place in her heart by reason of being an old 
playmate, and manifestly in love with her, 
and striving to win her to love him. 

So there she was with two real lovers, 
attracted to the one by his virility, and to 
the other by his weakness ; but she felt herself 
strong with Arthur, and weak with Morgan. 
Arthur amused her, and won her something 
as a child would by his honesty, ingenuous- 
ness and frank aflfeetion. She was always de- 
lighted to see him, but she generally had an 
engagement with Morgan when it came to 
going out for an evening, whether for a walk 
or to the theater ; and yet she was ever more 
her sunny self with Arthur than with Morgan, 
and ever more a young lady with Morgan 
than with Arthur. 

After the meeting of the two rivals in the 
park, Amelia was no longer entertained by 
their meetings in her parlor; but between 
them Amelia found all her spare time occupied. 


58 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


Arthur had joined the Athletic club, and 
was working there regularly and steadily, but 
kept in check by Herbert. He had also taken 
up his work in his father’s office, but only 
staying there for half a day. He gave as 
much of the remainder of his time as he could 
to besieging the heart of his pretty little 
neighbor. 

He grew better and better in health, 
stronger and stronger in muscle, and he was 
sure that Amelia was taking him more seri- 
ously. She often went out walking with him 
now, and sometimes went to the theater. In- 
stead of smiling with amusement at his fervid 
speeches, she more often blushed and looked 
the other way. 

Arthur went deeper and deeper in love, and 
grew more assiduous than ever. He would 
have faced the man who had so humiliated 
him but for the insistence of Herbert that he 
must do nothing of the sort. 

“Can you not see that you are winning 
Amelia?” he asked one day. “She goes out 
oftener with you than with Morgan, now. 
Win her first, and let that fellow do his worst 
afterward. 

Arthur took his advice, and so it hap- 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


59 


pened that Morgan saw nothing of Arthur, 
and was unaware of the strides he was mak- 
ing in health and strength; and Amelia no 
longer talked to Morgan of Arthur, avoiding 
the subjeet when Morgan tried to sound her 
on it. This was a good sign for Arthur, 
but, unfortunately for him, he knew nothing 
of it. 

The weeks wore into months, and June had 
eome around again. A great many times 
reeently Arthur had tried to pluek up the 
courage to open his heart to Amelia, but it 
always seemed as if the right moment had not 
come. 

One afternoon at the gymnasium the di- 
rector stood watching Arthur as he went 
through a series of exercises on the parallel 
bars. A marvelous improvement had taken 
place in Arthur’s appearance; he had filled 
out all over his body, especially about the 
chest and shoulders. To the director his 
progress had been one of the most interesting 
sights he had ever seen, and he was particu- 
larly anxious that nothing should happen to 
interfere with that progress. 

“Stop a moment, Arthur!” he cried sud- 
denly, “something’s the matter with you. 


60 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


Twice I’ve notieed your elbows give as you 
made a hand-stand on the bars.” 

Arthur went toward him, shrugging his 
shoulders. “Yes,” he said, “I don’t believe 
I’ll do any more to-day.” 

“Not feeling ill, I hope?” 

“No. A little disturbance; that’s all.” 

The faet was he had said to himself that 
morning that come what may he would speak 
to Amelia that day. He had been unable to 
settle his thoughts on his work at the offiee, 
and had betaken himself to the gymnasium in 
the hope of working himself into a steadier 
eondition. 

He usually walked home, but to-day he 
took the elevated train so as to get to his 
destination in the shortest time possible ; and 
when he was there he rushed to his room and 
ehanged his elothes, partly to do honor to 
Amelia, but partly to put off the crisis as 
long as he legitimately could. 

As it was somewhat earlier than his usual 
hour for visiting her, Amelia was obliged to 
make him wait, for she, too, had to make a 
toilet in his honor. Arthur passed the time 
of waiting in paeing up and down the parlor 
until he heard that rustle on the stairs for 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


61 


which his ears had been alert, and which 
always sent his heart into a flutter of expec- 
tation. 

He sank quickly into a chair, trying to 
give himself an air of composure, and not 
succeeding in the least. Nearer, nearer came 
the rustle, while the light pitpat on the hard- 
wood stairs told him Amelia was coming in 
her quick, childish way. 

Then she stood in the doorway, holding the 
portiere in one hand, and peering into the 
room in a certain bird-like way that just 
suited her charming little figure, and which 
seemed to Arthur quite the most ravishing 
attitude ever a girl stood in. 

And certainly she was a bewitching pic- 
ture : rounded and plump as a partridge, 
with a perfect pink and white complexion, and 
a mass of golden curls to frame as pretty a 
face as the eyes of man ever looked at and 
adored. She had a mouth like a rosebud, and 
blue eyes that danced with innocent mirth 
most of her happy life, but which could take 
on an expression of pleading affection calcu- 
lated to drive a lover to distraction. 

“Oh! is it you, Arthur?” she said, quite 
as if she were surprised at seeing him there. 


62 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Yes. I’m home earlier than usual, 
and—” 

“Came in to see me to kill time,” she 
pouted playfully, as she seated herself at the 
piano and rippled off a few bars of a popular 
song. 

“No,” answered Arthur, getting up sud- 
denly and going over to her side, “I did not 
eome to kill time, Amelia. You know I come 
here whenever I think you won’t object; you 
know — ” 

Amelia, struck at once by an unwonted 
terror in his voice, had looked up at him, and 
found her heart beginning to beat furiously. 

“Oh!” she interrupted hastily, and speak- 
ing at random, “who ever said I objected? 
This is one of Sousa’s latest, have you heard 
it?” 

She plunged into the performance of a 
march, and Arthur, breathing like a man who 
has had a respite from some sentence, listened 
—or had the appearance of listening— until 
she stopped and looked up. 

“Amelia,” he said, putting his hand on her 
arm. 

“Oh! didn’t you like it?” 

“Amelia, I want to say something to you 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


63 


of great importance to me. I — I have been 
thinking of it all day — all day ! Why I’ve 
been thinking, of it for months ! ” 

“I — I don’t think I have time now,” mur- 
mured Amelia, making a futile attempt to 
rise, Arthur keeping her in her seat by a 
gentle pressure of his hand. 

“Yes, Amelia, you must listen to me. You 
know what I am going to say; you must 
have seen the words on my lips a hundred 
times ; you must have known what was in my 
heart. Oh ! who could know you without 
loving you? I love you, Amelia dear; I love 
you ! Oh, how I love you ! Have you a word 
of hope for me?” 

“Oh, Arthur; please!” 

“Don’t answer me yet,” he cried in trepi- 
dation. “Listen to me first. I know very 
well I am not half good enough for you ; but 
nobody is that. All I can say is that I love 
you, and will do anything, everything, to be 
worthy of you. I’ve loved you for so long, 
Amelia; long before you suspected it, I am 
sure, Amelia dear!” 

She had risen in spite of the pressure of his 
hand, and was standing in front of him, her 
bosom heaving, her eyes down. His voice was 


64 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


very pleading, and she found it hard not to 
look up and give him the answer he asked 
for ; but she was in a eruel uneertainty about 
her own feelings. 

“Oh, Arthur! I am so sorry,” she mur- 
mured softly, “but I ean’t answer you ; indeed, 
I can’t.” 

“You love — love him?” he gasped. 

“You ought not to speak like that, Ar- 
thur.” 

“No, I ought not, Amelia. I am sorry I 
said it. Forgive me, won’t you? And oh, 
Amelia ! I want you to know that I love you 
so much that I want you to be happy — the 
happiest you can be ; and if loving somebody 
else will really make you happier than loving 
me, why — why — ^well. I’ll try to be happy, 
too.” 

“I’m sorry I can’t answer you, Arthur,” 
she said regretfully. “We’ve always been such 
good friends. Why, the vert first thing I 
remember in my life is you drawing me in my 
little express wagon. Do you remember it?” 

“Yes.” 

“And if I were sure, I would answer you 
now; but I’m not sure, Arthur, and I ought 
not say anything, ought I?” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


65 


“But you don’t tell me not to hope?” he 
demanded eagerly. 

“Oh no.” 

“And you don’t think you love anybody 
else better? It isn’t wrong to ask that, is 
it?” 

“I — I don’t think I love anybody else 
better. You must not make me say too 
mueh, Arthur. I — I don’t know my own 
mind. Oh, mayn’t I go upstairs, Arthur, and 
not answer any more questions?” 

“Oh yes, Amelia.” 

“And you won’t feel hurt?” 

“No. You did say I might hope?” 

“Oh yes, you may hope. You won’t mind 
my going, please, Arthur?” 

“No.” 

She looked up at him out of a pair of 
troubled eyes, and then fluttered out of the 
room, stopping at the door to flash back at 
him a bewildering glance that filled him with 
a hope her words had failed to convey. 

He could not go home immediately after 
that interview, so went for a long walk, trying 
as he strode along to settle in his mind 
whether or not he might permit himself to 
hope. 

5 


66 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


Amelia, on the other hand, locked herself 
into her room and did the best she could 
to take stock of her feelings. Did she love 
Arthur, or not? Certainly he had never 
looked so noble and handsome as when 
he stood there telling her that he wished 
her to be happy at any cost to himself. 
Certainly she had never been so near loving 
him as then. 

But did she love him? She felt a very de- 
lightful thrill run over her as she recalled the 
look in his brown eye^ ; and there had been a 
tremor in that rich baritone of his which had 
made her heart beat very quickly, and which 
was very pleasant to recall. 

It came over her that if he had been mas- 
terful like Charles Morgan, and had taken her 
in his arms, as she was sure Charles Morgan 
would have done, she might be in his arms 
still, her flushed face on his breast, her heart 
beating in tune to his. 

Ah, yes ! that was the difference between 
them. Charles Morgan was so self-assured, so 
masterful, while Arthur was so diffident, so 
anxious to first be sure of her. A knock at 
her door disturbed her meditations finally, 
and she demanded to know who was there. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


67 


“Mr. Morgan is in the parlor, Miss 
Amelia,” the maid said. 

“Mr. Morgan at this time of day! Oh, I 
don’t want — say I’ll be down in a few min- 
utes, Jane.” 

Amelia looked in her mirror, and received 
a very good report from it. She could not 
help knowing she was very pretty. Did she 
not, in fact, do everything she knew to make 
herself attractive? All her friends agreed that 
there wasn’t a more stylish girl than Amelia 
Winsted to be found, and nature had been 
lavish. 

“I wonder why he comes at this time of 
day?” she asked the pleasant face in the 
mirror. “It is very unusual. I hope, oh I 
hope — ” She would not tell even her reflection 
what it was she hoped, but shaking her head 
doubtfully, went downstairs to see her master- 
ful lover. 

It is a proverb, if not a truth, that it 
never rains but it pours. The law of chances 
no doubt will explain why it is that when a 
thing happens, another thing of the same 
kind is very likely to follow. 

Amelia had two lovers, between whom she 
had been hovering for some time, and whom 


68 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


she had kept at a reasonable distance all the 
while simply because she was hovering. Ar- 
thur had been driven to action at last, and 
what more natural than that Morgan should 
have been similarly acted upon. 

Anyhow he was waiting in the parlor to 
see Amelia, determined to ask her to be his 
wife, and feeling comfortably certain that she 
would not say no. He was very much in love 
with her, and had recently ascertained the 
amount of her father’s fortune. 

“Amelia!” he cried, stepping forward 
quickly as she came in, his voice as well as 
his black eyes telling her how much happiness 
there was for him in the sight of her. 

He held her hand in a grasp so firm that 
she could not easily take it away from him, 
and so allowed it to remain in his while he 
led her to a seat. She almost sighed audibly 
as she thought how much more masterful he 
was than Arthur; and yet she really did like 
brown eyes the best. 

She wondered why Morgan had come at 
such an unusual time, but she did not ask 
him, and he did not tell her at once. On the 
contrary, he got her into a very pleasant 
mood by telling her a number of entertaining 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


69 


things about actors and actresses, and other 
persons in the public eye. 

“But this isn’t what I eame up here to see 
you about,” he said suddenly. 

“Didn’t you eome to see me?” she asked 
archly, quite at her ease now. 

“Indeed I came for nothing else,” he an- 
swered fervently; “not that I come whenever 
I want to see you, for in that case I should 
be here all the time.” 

“I suppose you know how to make sueh 
pretty speeches because you are a lawyer.” 

“ I assure you I don’t always make pretty 
speeches in eourt,” he laughed. “I talk from 
my head there and from my heart here.” 
“Oh!” 

“But I don’t always say there all that is 
in my head, nor here all that is in my heart. 
I’d like to, though.” 

“Well, won’t they let you say all that’s in 
your head in eourt?” 

“Will you letme sayall that’s in my heart?” 

There was such a look in his glowing black 
eyes that her heart eame up with a leap into 
her throat. Was he going to ask difficult 
questions like Arthur? 

“ I don’t know that I would care for that,” 


70 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


she answered, trying to laugh. “Don’t you 
want me to give you some music?” 

“I want you to give me music all my life, 
Amelia. That is why I came up here this 
afternoon. I came up to tell you that I 
loved you and wanted you to be my wife. 
Ah! my little darling!” His arm was about 
her waist in spite of her terrified effort to 
keep him away. He was masterful, indeed. 
“You do love me, do you not?” 

His face was nearing hers, his black mus- 
tache brushing her cheek, when a cry of de- 
spair broke from her lips, and she pushed his 
face away. 

“No! no! no! You must not! Oh! Ido 
not know whether I love you or not. I — I am 
afraid I do not. I don’t know. Don’t kiss 
me ! I won’t have you ! Please let me go ! 
Oh, Papa ! He wants me to marry him, and 
I don’t know!” 

Her father had entered the parlor, drawn 
by her excited words, and now caught her in 
his arms. The reaction was a very grateful 
one to Amelia. She felt so very safe where 
she was, and a moment before, with the arm 
of Charles Morgan about her waist, ^ she had 
felt like a bird caught in a net. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


71 


“You speak to him, Papa. Tell him I 
don’t know yet; that I must think,” she 
whispered to her father, while Charles Morgan 
looked on, seeking in his ready brain for the 
right word to say to the father who had 
come only just in time to save his daughter 
from the masterful man. 

* * * * 


CHAPTER VI 


“I LOVE your daughter, sir, and I believe 
I have reason to think she loves me,” said 
Charles Morgan to Mr. Winsted. 

Amelia had given him a glanee half shy, 
half triumphant, as she flitted from the room. 

“She has never said anything to me about 
it, and I do not know,” replied Mr. Winsted, 
carefully. 

“She is such a dear, shy little creature,” 
said Morgan, feeling his way so as to know 
when to stop, “that I think she was fright- 
ened when I told her what I could no longer 
keep to myself. I love her, sir, and I am able 
to take care of her as she has been used to 
being cared for. You know I am a lawyer, 
and I think I am justified in saying I have 
the promise of great success.” 

“Amelia will decide for herself, Mr. Mor- 
gan. I shall only assure myself that the man 
of her choice is one calculated to make her a 
good husband. I had no idea that matters 
were so advanced as this. Indeed I did not 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


73 


know that you— that she had what might be 
called a lover. I shall speak to her and hear 
what she has to say.” 

“I hope I have your good will, sir.” 

“At least you have not my ill will.” 

“I will call again to-morrow and hear 
what Amelia has to answer me. I would not 
hope for something favorable if I did not 
think I had some reason for doing so.” 

“I cannot say what Amelia’s answer will 
be.” 

Morgan left the house cursing in his heart 
the father who had come in so inopportunely, 
but with his lips saying as many pleasant 
things as he could think of. 

When he was gone, Mr. Winsted went to 
Amelia’s room, where she was expecting him, 
and expecting him without any tremors, for 
if there was a man in the world she was not 
in the least afraid of, that man was her 
father. It is not an unusual thing for an 
American girl to feel that way toward her 
father. 

“Well?” he said inquiringly, as he entered 
the room. 

“Oh, do sit down!” she said, with the 
playful imperiousness of a spoiled child. “I 


74 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


want to get on your lap. Now, then, you 
want to know all about it, don’t you?” 

“Why, I suppose I ought to, oughtn’t I?” 

“I don’t know about the ought part of it, 
but I am going to tell you just the same. 
That was the seeond this afternoon.” 

“The second what? What do you mean?” 

“The second proposal. Oh, you didn’t 
know what a popular girl your little Amelia 
was, did you?” 

“The second proposal! and you are — how 
old?” 

“Seventeen.” 

“H’m! And who was the other infatu- 
ated young man. 

“Arthur.” 

“Oh! And what did you tell him? You 
know I wasn’t here at that proposal.” 

“I told him just what I told Mr. Morgan, 
that I didn’t know. Why, I don’t know. 
That is, I didn’t know as well then as I do 
now; and now I don’t say I am at all sure.” 

“Oh!” 

“ Don’t sit here and say ‘ oh ! ’ as if I had 
done something strange. How can I tell 
which man I love in such a hurry? I didn’t 
know Arthur was going to say anything 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


75 


about it this afternoon ; and I’m sure nobody 
could have guessed that Charles Morgan 
would come up to-day, of all days, to propose 
to me.- Oh ! but I’m glad you came when 
you did.” 

“Are you? Why?” 

“Well, if he’d kissed me, I do believe I’d 
have said yes. He has such a way of— of— 
well, having his way.” 

“H’m! and you would have been sorry if 
you had said yes to him?” 

“I am afraid so.” 

“You like Arthur best?” 

“Lately I think I do; but you know I 
haven’t had time to think about it, and so I 
couldn’t say; but I really do think that if 
Arthur had been as enterprising as Mr. Mor- 
gan I might have given him a little more 
hope, anyhow.” 

Mr. Winsted, who loved his daughter better 
than everything else in the world, frowned, 
got up, letting Amelia sit in the chair, and 
began to walk up and down the room. She 
watched him with great interest, knowing 
that he was pondering some problem, and 
that it would be useless for her to ask any 
questions until he was ready to answer them. 


76 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“My dear,” he said at last, stopping in 
front of her with a very serious expression, 
“I have been thinking of something you 
ought to do.” 

“Nothing disagreeable, I hope. I am so 
afraid of the things I ought to do. They are 
almost always unpleasant.” 

“I have been thinking of this for some 
time, so that what you have just told me 
only has the effect of hastening my de- 
cision.” 

“Then it is something I must do whether 
I like it or not?” 

“I think you will like it, my dear; I hope 
you will.” 

“Well, go on!” 

“How would you like to go to Europe, 
London, Paris, Rome — anywhere — ” 

“Oh, Papa!” 

“And leave these lovers without any answer 
until you come back?” 

“Just a little hope. Papa?” 

“ Hope for both of them ! ” 

“Well, a little for Arthur. He’s an old 
playmate, you know. Though I don’t want 
to say exactly no to Mr. Morgan. Don’t you 
think he’s handsome, papa?” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


77 


"Of a certain type.” Mr. Winsted was a 
small, light man himself. 

"And oh! he’s awfully strong. He could 
pick you up as if you were a baby. That’s 
the way he lifts me into a carriage.” 

Mr. Winsted rather resented the idea of 
being picked up by anybody. "For my 
part,” he said, "I think he is very much 
less of a gentleman than Arthur. But you 
are to do as you please. We go to Europe, 
then, do we?” 

"Of course we do, you dear, old Papa! 
And when do we go ? Soon? I don’t want to 
wait at all.” 

" Suppose I can get tickets for next Wednes- 
day week?” 

"Gracious! Oh do! What fun! I’ll get 
Arthur to go down with us, and I’ll have Mr. 
Morgan meet us at the steamer ; and I won’t 
see either of them till then— not alone, any- 
how.” 

***** 

Arthur stood on the deck of the steamer, 
by the side of the dainty little creature, whose 
shining eyes and flushed cheeks betrayed her 
delight and excitement to the throngs that 
surged about them. Mr. Winsted, with a 


78 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


kindly glance at Arthur, betook himself to the 
rail and looked down at the crowded wharf. 

“You will let me write to you, Amelia, 
won’t you?” Arthur asked, tremulously. 

“ Oh yes, I guess so. I wonder where papa 
is. Oh! there he comes!” 

“And Amelia, you will write to me, won’t 
you?” 

“Yes, yes, I will. I will, Arthur.” 

“Mr. Morgan is coming to see you off, 
Amelia,” said Mr. Winsted, carelessly enough, 
but with the same kindly glance at Arthur, 
as if to assure him on which side his sympa- 
thies were. “He is coming up the gang- 
plank now.” 

Amelia looked around helplessly for a mo- 
ment, then drew a deep breath, and turned 
with a pleading smile to Arthur. 

“You’ll stay and see me off, won’t you, 
Arthur?” 

“Yes, indeed, I will.” 

And in his heart he was vowing he would 
remain with her until Charles Morgan left her, 
if he had to go to Europe to accomplish it. 

“Oh, Mr. Morgan! How do you do? So 
kind of you to come down to see me off. 
And I know you must be busy, too. This is 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


79 


Mr. Raymond ; you must remember him. Mr. 
Raymond, Mr. Morgan. Thank you so mueh 
for the beautiful flowers, Mr. Morgan. It was 
so thoughtful of you. I shall enjoy them so 
mueh. Oh, Arthur, there is Maud, and some 
of the girls, too! Won’t you bring them 
here?” 

“I shall write to you, Amelia,” said Mor- 
gan, half savagely, as Arthur turned to do 
her bidding, “and you will answer me, will 
you not?” 

He was not pleading and humble, like 
Arthur, but almost imperative. Amelia, 
secure in the presence of so many of her 
friends, smiled sweetly up at him. 

“I’ll ask papa about it,” she said. “Oh 
girls, I am so glad to see you I If I write to 
you, you’ll write and keep me posted about 
everything, won’t you?” 

There was a clamor of acquiescence; there 
was a hurry of introductions to Charles Mor- 
gan; there was a babel of talk until the 
order came to go ashore. 

Morgan scowled fiercely at Arthur, but 
Arthur ignored him completely, feeling ready 
to meet him now, not only in a crowded spot 
like this, but even in a lonely one, if necessary. 


80 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


At the last moment, and just as the gang- 
plank was being drawn up, Morgan gave 
Amelia’s hand a fieree pressure and darted 
away. Arthur followed him, his departure 
sweetened by a smile from Amelia. 

“Curse you!” hissed Morgan in Arthur’s 
ear, as they stood on the wharf, “I’ll teaeh 
you a lesson you’ll never forget. I should 
think you’d had enough.” 

“You eur and you coward!” was the con- 
temptuous response. 

“You dare not cross Morningside Park at 
eight o’clock to-night.” 

“I dare, and I will.” 

***** 


CHAPTER VII 


Herbert Courtney was a very happy man 
in these days ; his employers had shown their 
appreciation of his faithful services by so in- 
creasing his salary that he felt himself justi- 
fied in taking a wife. 

Margie and he had talked the matter over, 
and the day had been set for the wedding. 
It was to take place some time in August, 
so that they might take advantage of Her- 
bert’s vacation to enjoy a few weeks in the 
country together. 

He went to the house every night, now, 
and was on his way thither the evening after 
Amelia’s departure for Europe. He was cross- 
ing the park, whistling softly because he was 
so happy, when suddenly a man darted out of 
the shadow of some rocks and came swiftly 
toward him. 

He was too active and athletic to fear 
one man, even if as large as the one who 
strode toward him with a certain air of 

threatening, but he nerved himself to be 
6 


82 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


ready for whatever might happen, his eyes 
scanning the man with alert keenness. 

All at once he recognized Charles Mor- 
gan; and it seemed that the latter recog- 
nized him at the same moment, for he gave 
a start, moderated his pace, and dropped 
into a slow, sauntering gait that was too 
obviously forced to be natural. 

“ Good evening,” he said in his insolent 
way. 

“ Good evening,” was Herbert’s curt re- 
joinder, for he disliked the man, and was at 
no pains to disguise his feelings. 

They passed each other without further 
word, and Herbert would probably have for- 
gotten the matter, preferring to dismiss such 
a disagreeable subject from his thoughts, 
but for meeting Arthur a few moments later. 
Indeed their meeting must have been within 
sight of Charles Morgan. 

“ Hello, Arthur ! ” he cried, cordially. “Out 
for a walk?” 

“Yes. I thought I’d take a little walk. 
Margie’s out on the stoop, waiting for 
you.” 

I believe I am a little later than usual,” 
said Herbert, preparing to hurry on. “ Good 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


83 


night ! Oh ! by the way, did you see Amelia 
off this morning?” 

“Yes, I went with the rest of the world!” 

“Too many around to suit you, I sup- 
pose,” laughed Herbert, passing on. “Well, 
I hope you’ll have a pleasant walk.” 

“Thank you, I think I shall.” 

They separated, and Herbert quickened his 
pace as he thought of the woman he loved 
waiting for him. Then he suddenly stopped 
and looked back after Arthur. 

“That fellow Morgan is up to no good,” 
he murmured, “and Arthur acts as if he 
had more on his mind than Amelia’s absence. 
I wonder — By gracious ! It would be just 
like the foolish boy to have a set-to with 
Morgan if he met him and had words with 
him.” 

That thought decided him. He hurried 
swiftly after Arthur, and came upon him just 
as Morgan stepped again out of the obscurity 
of a shadow. Neither of them noticed him, 
but rushed at each other at once; and then 
he knew that the meeting had been precon- 
certed. 

He groaned in his despair. He knew Arthur 
was not fit to meet Morgan yet; and he 


84 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


knew, too, that it would be quite in Morgan’s 
style to take advantage of the irregular meet- 
ing and of the darkness to practice foul play 
to seriously injure Arthur. 

There could be no hesitation with such 
a thought in his mind; besides, the two men 
had grappled, and were struggling fiercely 
already. He sprang at them, and at no small 
risk to himself caught each one by a shoulder, 
crying angrily : 

“Stop this! Arthur, let go your hold. 
Charles Morgan, stop ! I’ll strike you if 
you don’t let go your hold. By all that’s 
sacred I will. Stop!” 

He was too manifestly in earnest to be 
doubted, and both contestants loosed their 
holds and fell back from each other, Arthur 
crying out bitterly : 

“ Go your own way, Herbert. You have no 
right to meddle in this.” 

“I’ll make the right, then,” Herbert an- 
swered firmly. 

“Ah!” sneered Morgan, having recovered 
himself, and ready to wound with his tongue, 
since nothing else was left him to do. “Do 
you think I don’t see through your little 
game? It was very clever of you, little Ar- 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 85 

thur. You don’t want another spanking, of 
course.” 

“Do you hear him?” cried Arthur, almost 
with a sob. “Do you think I will stand that? 
By heaven ! I will show him he has no boy 
to deal with now. Leave us alone, Herbert, 
or you are no friend of mine.” 

“One moment!” said Herbert, sternly. 
“This fight shall not take place here. That 
man Morgan lies when he says anything to 
imply cowardice in you, and he lies deliber- 
ately. Oh, you need not start out at me; I 
am not afraid of you, least of all at a rough 
and tumble, and you know it. Herbert Court- 
ney’s reputation is safe even from your foul 
tongue.” 

Morgan had stepped threateningly forward, 
but at the other’s cold cutting words he 
clenched his fists and bit his lip. He did 
know Herbert Courtney’s reputation for cour- 
age was beyond injury from him ; and he knew 
too, that in a rough and tumble fight a man 
must be active indeed to worst him. With 
gloves on, in the arena, the case would have 
been different. 

“I have no quarrel with you,” he said 
hoarsely, “but with that whelp of a boy I 


86 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


have a quarrel that needs satisfying and 
neither you nor anyone else ean interfere 
between us without coming to harm. So 
mark my words, and leave us to settle our 
quarrel by ourselves.” 

“Go on, Herbert,” said Arthur. “You 
have no right interfering. I am able to take 
care of myself. He’ll find a year has made 
some difference.” 

“No,” said Herbert, in a tone that was 
final, “I would not leave you here if I knew 
that man was honorable and to be trusted; 
and knowing him as I do, I would not go 
away without you, Arthur, if I knew I was 
making you an enemy for life.” 

“What do you mean to insinuate?” cried 
Morgan, fiercely. “Be a little careful how you 
talk, or you’ll find I’m not so sure of my 
temper as you seem to think.” 

“Bah!” said Herbert, contemptuously. 
“Will you consent to put your hands up 
and walk to the first light there to let your- 
self be searched? Will you give your word 
beforehand that you have no concealed weap- 
ons on your person?” 

A horrible oath burst from Morgan’s lips, 
and it seemed for a moment as if he con- 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


87 


templated throwing himself on Herbert. Nor 
was it from eowardiee that he did not, for 
he was brave enough; but he was too eold 
and ealeulating to do a foolish thing, and he 
knew that under the eircumstances it would 
be the height of folly to attack one of those 
men with the other there to insure fair play ; 
for the truth was that he had in his pocket 
a pair of brass knuckles, with which he had 
intended to deal Arthur a blow. 

“It takes a cur to think of a dirty thing 
like that,” he said, interlarding his speech 
with oaths. “ You know that no man with a 
spark of self-respect would consent to do what 
you ask ; but there are two of you, and even 
two cowards are wrong odds for any one 
man. As for you, little Arthur, I’ll have 
you over my knee again just as sure as you 
live. ’ ’ 

“ I’m ready to meet you now or any time,” 
Arthur answered. “ It is not my fault that he 
is here ; but after what I’ve heard, I want to 
say that if ever we do meet it will be in the 
light, and with people enough around to see 
fair play.” 

“That sounds like a challenge,” said Mor- 
gan, with a jeering laugh. 


88 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Take it for such, if you like,” Arthur 
answered hotly. 

“Do you mean you’ll put on the gloves 
with me, and stand up like a man?” cried 
Morgan, with fierce joy. 

“When he’s in your class he will, and not 
a day sooner,” interposed Herbert. “You 
know very well that he wouldn’t be allowed 
to put on the gloves with you in any reputa- 
ble club ; and he doesn’t go inside any of the 
disreputable ones as long as I’m around to 
prevent it.” 

“Oh, well, little Arthur,” sneered Morgan, 
“you fix it with your nurse; I’m ready any 
time. In the meanwhile, look out for your- 
self, for I’ll down you if I die for it.” 

“A criminal lawyer ought to know better 
than to threaten before witnesses,” said Her- 
bert, linking his arm through Arthur’s and 
drawing him away. 

Arthur went reluctantly, but he went be- 
cause it was perfectly plain that Herbert 
would not leave him there alone. Moreover, 
his first fierce anger with the latter had gone, 
for he had been enabled to see, through what 
passed between Herbert and Morgan, that he 
had done a foolish thing in meeting him there 
alone. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


89 


“I hope you are no longer angry with me, 
Arthur,” Herbert said, when they had gone 
a short distanee together. 

“I am not angry, but I wish you had not 
interfered. I eould have given a good aeeount 
of myself.” 

“To what good end? He is the better 
man, even if he had used fair means ; and I 
know perfectly well that he would not have 
done so. He knows that I am acquainted 
with the rumors that were floating around 
about him two years ago, when he was sus- 
pected of having used brass knuckles against 
a man he was at odds with. The thing 
wasn’t proved, but he was always believed 
guilty.” 

“Well,” said Arthur, “the thing’s got to 
be settled some day; I know that.” 

“Then let it be settled inside a rope, with 
a good, strong light on you both, and with 
plenty of witnesses ; but you won’t be fit for 
a year to come, and you might as well make 
up your mind to it. But don’t let us talk 
about this any more now. Have you ever 
thought of your brother’s terrible condition, 
Arthur?” 

“Have I? Sometimes it seems to me as 


90 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


if I should go crazy, too, if I could not do 
something to get rid of that awful weight on 
my poor mother. It is wearing on father, 
too; but it is mother who has to bear the 
brunt of it.” 

As Herbert had known, he had chosen 
the one subject most likely to take Arthur’s 
thoughts most certainly away from Morgan. 
Besides, since he was almost a member of the 
family, he could not help taking an interest 
in whatever concerned it. 

As for Arthur, he had at one time looked 
upon his poor, demented brother as simply 
a horror; but that was in the days when it 
seemed as if death was claiming him, and his 
views of all things in life had been warped. 
Now, however, pity alone moved him when 
he thought of the madman who spent so much 
of his wretched life chained to the wall of his 
lonely room; and, of late, he had given no 
little thought to the problem of how he could 
do something to lift the terrible pall that 
hung over and elouded the mind of his 
brother. 

“Have you considered,” asked Herbert, 
“that it might be that the system of natural 
cure that snatched you back from the grave 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


91 


you had been doomed to by modern science 
might do something for Robert?” 

“Yes, I have thought of it, and have 
spoken to mother about it; but you know 
how unreasonably she refuses to believe that 
I was helped by anything but that old hum- 
bug’s medicine.” 

“Yes, I know she is firm in her belief in 
Dr. Brayton ; but what did she say when you 
suggested the new way?” 

“Said she would speak to the doctor about 
it. I told her that was useless, but she an- 
swered me that I was wrong to doubt his 
ability after he had cured me. She said that 
it was folly for me to put my ignorance in 
competition with his knowledge.” 

“Alas ! it is his ignorance that we have to 
compete against.” 

“Old fool!” cried Arthur, hotly. “He 
knows he is a fraud. When he was at the 
house the last time, I tried to discuss the 
subject with him.” 

“And with what result?” 

“He smiled that big, bland smile of his, 
and asked me in his suavest tones what I 
supposed was the use of all the knowledge 
and research of the medical profession if it 


92 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


were not better than the ignoranee of a man 
who pretended that by working a few muscles 
he could cure anything.” 

“And of course your mother was impressed 
by that way of putting it?” 

“Of course. But I asked him if it was 
not the way of his profession to decry every 
new thought that offered itself. I asked him 
if the profession had accepted Harvey’s theory 
of the circtilation of the blood when it was 
promulgated by him.” 

“What did he say to that?” 

“Oh, he smiled, and patted me on the 
back, and said, in his fat way — I can’t call 
it anything else — ‘Oh, Arthur, my boy, some- 
body has been beguiling you with calumnies,’ 
Do you know, Herbert, I don’t believe he ever 
heard of Harvey before. Then I asked him if 
he could remember how the old school had 
fought homeopathy, at the same time steal- 
ing no end of ideas from it.” 

“How did he get out of that?” 

“Same old way. Smiled, and would have 
patted me on the back, but I got out of the 
way so he couldn’t. He said he believed they 
had learned something from homeopathy. 
What do you think that was?” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


93 


“I don’t know.” 

“He said that when they saw that people 
who really were sick didn’t die when nothing 
but sugar and water were given them, they 
knew that it was not necessary to give so 
much medicine. To use his own words, that 
from watching the homeopaths they had 
learned a great deal of the natural history 
of disease. What do you think of that?” 

“I think they might do a little more 
watching ; but did he say nothing about 
Robert?” 

“A lot. He said he was hopelessly insane; 
that there was a tumor pressing on some part 
of the brain, and a lot more. He talked him- 
self nearly breathless and rung in something 
like this. I’ll give it to you as I remember 
it : ‘Under normal conditions these several 

sets of neurons are physiologically associated, 
and motor impulses arising in the cells of the 
sensori-motor cortical areas are transmitted 
through their processes to the cerebral motor 
neurons, and thence by the spinal motor 
neurons to the periphery.’ What do you think 
of that?” 

“I suppose he was afraid to say it in 
plain English for fear his ignorance would 


94 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


be discovered. Do you think he understood 
what he was saying, himself?” 

“I only know that he declared Robert in- 
curable, and laughed at the idea of his being 
helped by our natural method. I sometimes 
think the doctors would rather a patient 
would die by their pathy than live by any 
other.” 

“I don’t think it is as bad as that, Ar- 
thur; but it is certain that thousands of 
young men study medicine only because it is 
a respectable way of getting a living, and not 
because they have any love for it, or apti- 
tude. For them the study of medicine is a 
farce. They do not learn even what is taught 
in the schools, and never learn anything after- 
ward, but are graduated and turned loose on 
a confiding world, permitted by law to com- 
mit murder by drugs. To them a new idea 
is like a red rag to a bull; they hate prog- 
ress; they fear innovation; they try to hide 
their ignorance in a torrent of words.” 

Arthur laughed. “You certainly are giving 
them a certificate of character, Herbert. Is 
that all?” 

“Well, I only want to say that if a layman 
advances the best and most helpful suggestion 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


95 


imaginable, the doctors will decry it on princi- 
ple ; but if the famous Doctor So-and-So 
writes a paper, and reads it before his medical 
society, saying that clay heated to five hun- 
dred degrees centigrade, allowed to cool, and 
then made into pills, is a sovereign remedy 
for insomnia, every little drug doser in the 
country will be dealing out clay by the ton, 
without ever raising a question.” 

They were almost at the house by this 
time, and the conversation ended with the 
statement by Arthur that he would not rest 
until he had found somebody who had some- 
thing better than hopelessness to offer them. 


CHAPTER VIII 


Arthur had supposed that Amelia would 
remain away during the summer and return 
in the fall, but Mr, Winsted had purposely 
arranged his business affairs so that he need 
not return until it pleased him to do so. 
The eonsequenee was that a year passed, and 
the seeond summer was running into another 
autumn before Amelia wrote Arthur that she 
was eoming home. 

It was a joyous word to Arthur, who was 
longing with all the fervor of an ardent lover 
to see her sweet faee again. The time had 
not, indeed, been wasted by him, for he had 
devoted himself so faithfully and with such 
judgment, to the upbuilding of his body that 
he had become an almost perfect athlete. 

When he passed along the street now, 
men and women always gave him a second 
glance, even if they were not well enough 
informed to appreciate his magnificent phys- 
ique, for there was a singular charm in his 
alert, springy step, in his well-poised head. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


97 


his clear brown eyes, and in his general air 
of easy eonfidenee to take care of himself 
in any emergeney. 

He had had temptation enough to with- 
draw his love from little Amelia ; for with his 
superb health and marvelous strength had 
come that subtle, magnetie quality to which 
the opposite sex is so sensitive, and he had 
beeome sueh a favorite that his attentions 
would have been weleomed in more than one 
quarter. 

But Arthur never wavered in his love for 
the absent beauty, and the constant corres- 
pondence they maintained served to keep her 
always in his thoughts. 

He was now taking his full share of the 
work in his father’s office, perhaps more than 
his share measured in the ordinary way ; but 
he was so fall of vitality that he never tired, 
and got through an amount of work that 
made his father marvel. 

It made him rejoice, too, for he felt that 
the time was not far distant when he would 
drop out and leave Arthur the sole prop of 
the family. He had heart disease, and looked 
upon himself as a doomed man ; and although 
Arthur pleaded with him to at least give his 


98 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


method a trial, Mr. Raymond only shook his 
head obstinately, and used the time-worn 
argument of those who will not change : 

“If those who have studied such matters 
cannot cure me, how can you suppose anyone 
else can?” 

Arthur never quite gave up hope of in- 
fluencing his father to make a trial of the 
natural method, but no longer urged him to 
try it, confining himself to calling his atten- 
tion to the benefit that others derived from it. 

And, indeed, in their own home there had 
been a marvelous example of the effects of 
physical culture, combined with that rational 
living, which, by preventing disease, renders 
cure unnecessary. 

When Herbert and Margie had been married 
they had gone into a little suite of rooms, 
with the intention of keeping house ; but be- 
fore long they had been coaxed to come back 
to the old home, where Margie was greatly 
missed, and where Herbert had become a 
prime favorite. 

Between Herbert, Margie and Arthur they 
had brought about a revolution in the matter 
of meals, so that there were now served but 
two meals a day. Mr. Raymond ate three 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


99 


meals a day, but took his mid-day meal down 
town ; Mrs. Raymond, more in loyalty to her 
doctor than for any other reason, insisted on 
eating at noon, but made a very perfunctory 
meal of it. 

But this was a trifle compared with the 
truly revolutionary conduct of Herbert in re- 
gard to Margie. Before their marriage he had 
converted her to his physical culture ideas 
to the extent of inducing her to throw away 
her corsets and to the taking of considerable 
exercise ; but after their marriage nothing 
would satisfy him but that she should exer- 
cise systematically, and with a view to making 
herself an athlete. 

Margie, in the exuberance of her health 
and spirits, which she knew she owed largely 
to Herbert’s directions, fell in with his notions 
with enthusiasm; but even she was startled 
at last. She was even incredulous. 

It was one evening, a few months after 
their marriage, that they were sitting together 
in their own room, whither Margie had taken 
Herbert after dinner, on the plea of talking 
over an important matter. 

“What,” said Margie, nestling close to him 
as they sat together on a little sofa in front 


L.ofC. 


100 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


of an open grate fire, “what would you rather 
have than anything else in the world? You 
are to search your heart carefully, you know, 
and give me a truthful answer. What would 
you rather have than anything else?” 

“I don’t have to stop to think much 
about that,” he answered, drawing her closer 
to him, “I would rather have you.” 

“Stupid!” she cried, with pretended petu- 
lance, “you have me. I mean something you 
haven’t yet. Think hard!” 

He started and looked hard at her, mur- 
muring questioningly : 

“Oh, Margie?” 

“That isn’t answering my question at 
all,” she cried, blushing shyly. 

“Oh, Margie! Do you mean it? Is it 
true? Oh, Margie! Margie!” 

She nodded her head a gi'cat many times, 
and let it finally fall on his breast. “It is 
true, Herbert, dear.” 

For awhile nothing more was said, as if 
they were enjoying the happiness that was 
in prospect for them ; but at last Margie said 
regretfully : 

“I suppose now I ought to stop my exer- 
cises.” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


101 


“Oh, no! no! no!” he answered vehe- 
mently. “Now is the time to prove their 
value. You must go on and add new ones for 
this special emergency.” 

“But, Herbert, dear, you know all doc- 
tors agree that a woman should be very 
careful at such a time.” 

“And so she should, but not in the way 
they mean. Why, Margie, the reason mothers 
have such a terrible time is just because of 
the folly of the doctors, who will not see that 
the function of motherhood is absolutely a 
physical one, And must be treated as such.” 

“But, Herbert, dear,” she protested gently, 
“you know I agree with you in all your 
ideas about natural methods, but how can 
you know more about such a thing as moth- 
erhood than the men who have made a life- 
long, a century-long, one may say, study of 
it? I am sure, besides, that no doctor would 
dream of calling it anything but a purely 
physical function.” 

“Yes, they would call it so, but they would 
treat it as a sort of mystery, and not as they 
would any other physical function. Come, 
now, Margie, -if you were told that in a given 
number of months you must climb up a rope. 


102 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


hand over hand, would you sit down and let 
the muscles of your arms grow soft and 
flabby and useless? Would you call that 
rational preparation ? ’ ’ 

“ Of course not. I would take such excer- 
cises as would strengthen the particular mus- 
cles to be used. I think, in fact, that I would 
be inclined to neglect other muscles in order 
to be sure of being on the right side.” 

“Well, then, is motherhood a matter of 
muscles and tendons and bones, or not?” 

Margie looked at her husband in profound 
admiration. 

“How simple it seems when you put it 
that way!” she cried. “But why have not 
physicians thought it out along those lines?” 

“Oh, physicians generally don’t think; 
they only practice. They don’t have time 
to think, and they don’t have inclination 
to, either. Ask any physician, and he will 
tell you of marvelous cases of mothers here 
and there who have given birth to children 
and then been at their work within a day or 
two ; and it is a well-known fact that among 
the American Indians it is customary for a 
woman to step aside from the route the tribe 
is traveling, give birth to her child, and then 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


103 


catch up, and go on as if nothing had hap- 
pened.” 

“Really, Herbert?” 

“Yes. And among many peoples child- 
birth is not considered a painful or danger- 
ous operation. With the lower class Chinese 
and Japanese women, for example, children 
are born almost as a part of the day’s work.” 

“But if physicians know this, why don’t 
they make it the basis for finding some re- 
lief for us?” 

“ I don’t wonder you ask, for that is what 
any layman would ask; but the physician, 
seeing the difficulty, looks to drugs to help 
him out of it. Such a thing as putting the 
muscles, tendons, joints, membranes and 
fibers in order for the function never occurs 
to him. Speak to Doctor Brayton about it 
if you want to hear a hearty laugh.” 

“And you really know how to prepare me 
for the event which women always dread 
so?” 

“Yes, I know how.” 

“But you don’t mean I can get up in a 
day?” 

“I mean just that.” 

“And I shall not suffer much?” 


104 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Very little, if at all.” 

“And if I get up, and go about my duties 
within a day or two, I shall not become a 
victim to those terrible internal troubles that 
are the almost common lot of women?” 

“Of course you will not; and you will 
know that yourself. I shall not urge you to 
move until you are ready to do so.” 

“But, Herbert — you know I am not ob- 
jecting out of obstinacy, don’t you? — I am 
quite sure that I have read or heard that 
the Indian women are very much troubled 
with uterine ailments.” 

“I don’t say they are not. I used them 
only to show that with them child-birth is 
nothing more than an incident of a day’s 
march. If they do not recover tone at once, 
it is because they know nothing about the 
laws of health, and have not prepared for re- 
covery. It seems to me it is a pity if we can- 
not improve on the knowledge of savages.” 

“Of course that is true.” 

“Besides,” he went on earnestly, “this 
is not a theory of mine, but a fact, of which 
you will be assured in your own case. Of 
course it is not possible to draw a parallel 
between the human animal and the lower 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


105 


animals, generally, because the conditions of 
their existence differ so widely ; but it is worth 
noting that with the wild animals the birth 
of young offers no more than a momentary 
interruption of the activities of life; while 
with domesticated animals, the more highly 
they are bred — which means the more artifi- 
cial their lives are — the more they suffer. 
Jersey cows, for example, often die in giving 
birth to their calves.” 

“You don’t need to say any more, Her- 
bert; I will do whatever you tell me to. What 
you say is so reasonable that I would be fool- 
ish to doubt. Besides, if I do not feel well 
enough to do all you say, I need not attempt 
it.” 

With this understanding the new exercises 
began. Herbert procured for Margie a book 
on the subject, which she studied so as to be 
able to co-operate intelligently with him in 
the exercises he prescribed. 

The result was that Margie passed through 
the trying months that followed the revelation 
of her sweet secret absolutely free from the 
hampering restrictions which usually surround 
the human mother ; going about her work and 
play and exercise with the freedom of a girl. 


106 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


And when the long-expected day came, 
instead of the anxious waiting, the hushed 
household, the general distraction, the fearful 
anticipations, there was only an hour’s warn- 
ing — that hour being one of mild sickness — 
before a lusty girl came protesting into the 
world, crying with a power that told of good 
lungs. 

Doctor Brayton, Herbert would not have, 
but in deference to the wishes of Mrs. Ray- 
mond had called in the services of a Doctor 
Walden, who had been sent for at the first 
note of warning, and reached the house about 
two hours after little Gertrude’s birth, and 
just as Margie was proposing to get up. 

“Get up now?” he had cried in horror; 
“three weeks at the very least; I will not 
listen to anything else.” 

“But I am perfectly well,” Margie pro- 
tested. “Feel my pulse; try my tempera- 
ture.” 

The doctor did both, and found tempera- 
ture and pulse normal ; but he said that was 
not altogether unusual, and that the dis- 
turbance would betray itself later. 

He was so insistent, and Mrs. Raymond 
upheld him so strenuously, that Margie 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


107 


yielded against her wish. That night, and 
again the following morning, the doetor 
tested the young mother for febrile disturb- 
anee, and was nonplussed to find none. 

“Now,” said Margie, firmly, as soon as he 
was out of the house, “I am going to have 
my own way. I know I am strong enough 
to get up, and I am going to do it. It’s no 
use to try to dissuade me mother; Herbert 
was right in all he said to me; I feel quite 
well now, but I shall not if I remain in bed 
for three weeks.” 

So she got up, and from that moment 
attended to her duties as buoyantly as if 
nothing so momentous had happened to her. 
Doetor Walden severely reprimanded her, called 
her a victim of a delusion, ordered her into 
bed again, sent in his bill, and never came 
again. 

But Margie tripped lightly about her work, 
sang blithely to her baby, and acted gener- 
ally as if she thought life a particularly joy- 
ous affair. 

Arthur made this the text of many talks 
with his father, and the latter was always 
ready to agree that the natural method was 
just the thing for Margie, and had worked 


108 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


wonders with her, as it had with Arthur ; but 
nothing moved him from his hopeless attitude 
toward himself. 

“It’s no use, Arthur,” he would say, “I 
don’t say a young man might not be cured 
even of heart disease by your way, but it is 
absurd to think of anything doing me good.” 

Mrs. Raymond, accepted the dictum of her 
oracle. Doctor Brayton, watched Margie for 
months with piteous anxiety, expecting to see 
her suddenly give out, and forever wondering 
why it did not happen. 

“I don’t understand it,” she would say to 
her husband. “It is all a mystery to me. 
It isn’t what I’ve been used to.” 


CHAPTER IX 


“The Lucania reported off Fire Island.” 

That was the word that was brought to 
Arthur one September morning, and which 
made him start up from his desk with a cry 
of joy. There was a little lady on board that 
steamship whom he wished dearly to see. 

It had been a matter of anxious thought 
with him how he should contrive to see her 
before Charles Morgan had the opportunity 
to do so. He had seen nothing of his rival 
in some time, but he never doubted that Mor- 
gan was as well informed as he of Amelia’s 
coming. 

Then one day he learned from a wealthy 
member of the athletic club that he was ex- 
pecting his father and mother on the Lucania, 
and meant to go down the bay in a tug to 
meet them. 

“Oh, mayn’t I share the expense, and go 
with you?” Arthur had cried eagerly. “I 
have a friend coming on the Lucania, and I 
would give my head to get down the bay and 
welcome h — ^h — him.” 


110 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Him, Arthur?” the other had cried gayly. 
“Own up.” 

“Her father’s with her,” Arthur had an- 
swered. 

“Come along,” his friend had said with a 
laugh, “but don’t talk about sharing the 
expense. The tug is chartered, and I’d have 
to pay for her whether you went or not. I’ll 
send you word when the Lucania is reported 
off Fire Island. Then come to the club, and 
we’ll go together.” 

That is why he bought a handful of ex- 
quisite pinks, Amelia’s second choice in flow- 
ers, and hurried to his friend at the club. 

Amelia was standing with her father by the 
rail, looking eagerly at the familiar sights 
in the approaches to New York, her exclama- 
tions betraying how glad she was to be home 
once more. 

“Amelia!” said a voice from behind her, 
“ welcome home I ” 

She turned swiftly, a wondering look in her 
blue eyes; perhaps a little expectation, too. 

“Arthur! Arthur!” she cried, putting out 
both hands to him. “Oh, how glad I am to 
see you ! How did you get here? Papa ! 
Here’s Arthur!” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


111 


Then followed a handshaking, and more 
words of welcome, such as made Arthur feel 
that the deck he stood on was nothing less 
material than clouds. Then, all at once, 
Amelia cried out, in a tone that was all ad- 
miration : 

“But how well you look! Doesn’t he. 
Papa?” 

But papa, like a man who would do as he 
wished to be done by, had wandered ab- 
stractedly off, and was pointing out the 
beauties of our bay to an Englishman who 
was making his first visit to this country. 

“You are looking well, too,” said Arthur, 
with such a look in his eyes as made Amelia 
cast hers down for a moment ; but that only 
showed Arthur what exquisite eyelashes she 
had. 

“But you are so big and strong, and — 
and” — Handsome was what she had on her 
tongue to say, but did not — “and well.” 

“I couldn’t get any violets,” Arthur said, 
“but here are some pinks. I remembered you 
liked them second best.” 

She took them with a little cry of de- 
light, as if she had not seen them from the 
first and buried her face in them, inhaling 


112 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


their spicy fragrance, and looking slyly over 
them at the athletic form of her lover. 

“ How nice of you to remember. I do love 
carnations! You do look so well!” Again 
she meant handsome, but did not dare to 
say it. 

In fact she did not find it nearly as easy 
to talk to Arthur now as before. It was very 
certain that she could not treat him as lightly 
as she had the nice boy she had left behind 
her. It seemed to her that something she had 
never noticed before emanated from him and 
seemed to enfold her as in a subtle essence. 

“Yes, I am well,” he said, looking so 
wistfully at her that she was taken with a 
panic lest he should say something there 
and then that she was not ready to make 
answer to. She hastened to say : 

“Do tell me about Margie and the baby. 
Are they well? Is little Gertrude pretty? 
And good? Oh, how eager I am to see her! 
She doesn’t walk, yet, does she? Oh, of course 
not. How could she? She isn’t old enough, 
of course. When do babies walk, generally?” 

“When they’re about a year old, I think,” 
answered Arthur, thinking he had never lis- 
tened to such a voice, never looked into such 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


113 


blue eyes, never seen a form he would so like 
to hold close to his breast. 

“Think of you knowing anything about 
babies ! But I suppose you hear nothing else 
but baby now. Margie is real well, is she?” 

‘ ‘ Couldn’t be better. It doesn’t seem nearly 
fifteen months since we said goodby, does it? 
I don’t know what I should have done if it 
hadn’t been for your letters. It was very 
good of you to write to me.” 

His voice had sunk low, and had a peculiar 
pleading tone. Both were leaning on the rail, 
apparently looking intently at Fort Wads- 
worth. 

“I wrote because I wanted to,” she said 
in a tone as low as his own, and with a little 
quaver of unsteadiness in it. 

“There was one question you did not an- 
swer,” he said. 

“Oh! was there?” she murmured, as if 
greatly surprised and wondering. 

“Yes, there was. Will you answer it now, 
Amelia?” 

He had never dreamed of such a thing as 
pushing his suit at such a time; and if she 
had suspected that it would come to this a 
few minutes before, she would have sought 


114 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


refuge in her stateroom rather than endure it. 
Now, however, it seemed as if nothing else 
could have happened. 

She wanted to run away now, but wouldn’t 
have done it for the world, because she 
really found it very delightful to be met 
in this way by Arthur. She looked straight 
ahead of her, her breath coming and going 
quickly. 

“Amelia,” he pleaded, “can’t you give me 
the answer now? I didn’t come down here to 
ask you for it ; I only came because I couldn’t 
see you soon enough; but when I stand here 
by your side I can’t help myself; I must ask 
you for j’-our answer, Amelia, dear?” 

“You know very well you ought not to ask 
me now, Arthur.” 

“Yes, I do know it; but I can’t help it.” 

His hand was on hers, pressing it with a 
passion he was not fully conscious of She 
looked quickly up at him and then away 
again. 

“Suppose anybody were to see you, Ar- 
thur?” she said softly. 

Something in her tone made him cry out 
and catch his breath. He looked at her 
averted face. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


115 


“Amelia! Look at me! Oh, look at 
me ! ” 

“Somebody will surely hear you, Arthur.” 

“But look at me!” 

She breathed quickly, but turned her face 
slowly toward him so that he could look into 
her eyes. 

“Is it true? Do you?” he demanded, 
breathlessly, incredulously. 

“You won’t do anything to make people 
look?” she demanded. 

“No! no! I won’t. Do you Amelia? Do 
you — do you — love me?” 

“I’m pretty sure I do,” she answered. 
“Oh! Somebody will see you, Arthur!” 

“But aren’t you certain?” he demanded. 

“Ye-es.” 

“Oh, Amelia!” He crowded very close to 
her and squeezed her hand very hard. 

“I do think somebody will notice you, 
Arthur — dear,” she said softly. 

“Oh, I’ve never seen your stateroom,” 
he said suddenly. 

“Would it be proper?” 

“Hang propriety! Ask your father.” 

“Papa!” she called obediently; and when 
he came to her: “Do you think it would be 


116 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


improper for me to show Arthur my state- 
room?” 

Mr. Winsted hesitated. 

“We’re engaged,” Arthur said in an ex- 
planatory tone. 

“Oh! Glad of it, Arthur; glad of it. Im- 
proper? No. Go ahead ! I’m glad of it, 
my boy, glad of it. That fellow Morgan has 
hung like a nightmare over me.” 

“ Poor papa ! ” murmured Amelia. “When- 
ever I wanted him to do something he didn’t 
like, I said something about Mr. Morgan. 
Mr. Morgan has been his bete noir.'' 

“You’re a wicked, heartless creature!” 
said Mr. Winsted, with a wink at Arthur to 
assure him that she was really just the 
opposite of what he called her. “Take her 
away and punish her for her wickedness, 
Arthur.” 

“When did you decide?” Arthur asked. 

They were standing together in Amelia’s 
stateroom, his arms quite around her plump 
little body, his lips very close to hers, much 
as if they had been closer yet. 

“About fifteen months ago, I think.” 

“And you have kept me in suspense all 
this time?” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


117 


“I wasn’t absolutely, perfectly sure.” 

“But you are now?” 

“I think so.” 

“That won’t do.” 

“Arthur! This hat cost ten guineas in 
London I You must be careful ! Why, I had 
no idea you would be so-so — ” 

“ Loving? But are you perfectly sure now, 
or shall I endanger that ten-guinea hat 
again?” 

“I’m perfectly sure. There! I’m sure 
folks will wonder what is the matter with 
my hat. I know it isn’t on straight.” 

“And I know that it is on just as it should 
be, and that you are the most bewitching 
creature in it that ever existed.” 

“Really? Do I look well in it?” 

“In it, or out of it, there is no one com- 
parable with you ! ” 

“Arthur!” she said, with the suddenness 
and seeming irrelevance of a woman, “do you 
think Mr. Morgan will be at the wharf?” 

“Does he know you are coming?” 

“I only wrote him three times while I was 
away,” she answered. “You won’t mind 
that, now, will you?” 

“Not in the least.” 


118 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“I wish I hadn’t done it now,” she sighed 
ruefully. 

“Why?” 

” Because I think he will be there to see me. 
I’m a little bit afraid of him, Arthur. He is 
masterful, isn’t he?” 

Arthur smiled quietly. “ I don’t know yet. 
I expect to find out some day soon.” 

“What do you mean?” she cried, in alarm. 

“ Only that his club and mine have ar- 
ranged a friendly bout for the championship, 
and that he represents his club, and I repre- 
sent mine. I suppose you won’t care to see it, 
will you?” 

“To fight, Arthur?” 

“Oh no! Only to spar for points.” 

“I don’t know what that means; but I 
am so afraid you’ll be hurt. He is so 
strong and masterful, Arthur.” 

“Not strong and masterful enough to win 
you from me.” 

“Not really; but I was awfully afraid of 
him. I wish you had an engagement ring for 
me to wear.” 

“Will you wear this seal ring until I can get 
another?” he demanded quickly. “It is small 
for my little finger, and will be much too large 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


119 


for you; but if you would use one of your 
rings for a guard I’m sure it would stay on.” 

She pulled off the ring that was on the 
third finger of her right hand, and held out 
her left hand to Arthur, who slipped his ring 
on the third finger. It was much too large, 
but her ring held it on. 

Then there was the mystic ceremony with 
which lovers always bind an engagement ring 
on, and which only lovers can guess at, and 
afterward they went up on deck to see the 
steamship make her wharf 

Almost the first foot on the gangplank 
was that of Charles Morgan. He made his 
way through the throngs of passengers and 
searched until he found Amelia. 

She was talking with Arthur, and one little 
hand was ostentatiously displaying the seal 
ring that loosely encircled her third finger. 
Morgan was close upon them before he saw 
them, and he took in the full si^ificance of 
the scene. 

He knew that Arthur had stolen a march 
on him ; that he had snatched his prey away 
from him. He turned livid with passion, and 
ignored the little hand that was held out to 
him. 


120 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“You will cross my path,” he gasped 
hoarsely. “This is a quarrel to the death! 
Remember that!” 

“Oh, Arthur!” murmured Amelia, turning 
pale, “I am afraid of him.” 

“I am not, dear.” 


CHAPTER X 


“Oh, Margie! I’m so afraid!” 

‘ ‘ Afraid ? What are you afraid of, Amelia ? ’ ’ 

“Suppose that man Morgan should hurt 
Arthur?” 

“But Herbert says they can’t really injure 
each other. The worst that can happen is 
a knockout blow.” 

“Oh, I wish I hadn’t come! I wonder 
why men like such rough, brutal games. I 
suppose it is a kind of game, isn’t it?” 

The robust, muscular young matron looked 
down at the frail, prettj^ little creature by 
her side and laughed. 

“What a little ignoramus you are, 
Amelia!” she said. “Sparring isn’t exactly 
what you would call a game; it is a sport, 
though, and Herbert says that when it is 
conducted fairly, as a sport, and not as a 
money-making business, it is as elevating 
as any other form of athletic exercise, and 
not as brutal as some other sports which 
have a better reputation.” 

“You believe everything Herbert says. 


122 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


don’t you?” murmured Amelia, looking at 
her companion with wondering eyes. 

“I don’t accept his opinions without con- 
sidering them and demanding proofs, but 
when he tries to show me that some of my 
conventional notions are wrong I always 
try to be open-minded. That’s how I came 
to throw away the corsets which were per- 
verting nature and sowing the seeds of disease 
and misery for me.” 

“Oh, oh!” cried Amelia, putting her little 
gloved hands over her ears, “if you say 
a word about corsets I won’t listen. As 
if Arthur didn’t say enough without your 
taking it up. I know Morgan would like 
nothing better than to hurt Arthur.” 

Margie shrugged her shoulders and smiled 
pityingly, but she felt that neither time nor 
place was suitable for pushing the subject of 
corsets on her little friend, so she fell in with 
her wish and talked of something else. 

“Of course Morgan would like to injure 
Arthur,” she said, “but he will find that the 
Arthur he meets to-night is not the one he 
has so often insulted, secure in his superior 
strength. Just wait till they come out and 
you see Arthur stripped.” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


123 


“Stripped! Oh, Margie! He won’t really 
strip?” 

She looked so alarmed that Margie, in 
spite of her laughter, hastened to reassure 
her that the stripping would be only from 
the waist up. 

“It is quite eustomary,” she added, “and 
for my part I would rather look at Arthur’s 
magnifieent body than see the fight. Why, 
you don’t know how handsome he is when 
you see only his faee.” 

“Have you really seen him — er — er — did 
you say stripped?” 

“You little goose! Of eourse I’ve seen 
him when he and Herbert were taking their 
exercises at. home, and it is from seeing such 
splendid specimens of rnanhood that I have 
learned to distinguish men from fashion plates, 
and I can tell you there is a difference you 
don’t even dream of” 

“Oh, Margie!” sighed Amelia, “how differ- 
ent you are from what you used to be before 
I went to Europe ! Do you know that I 
somehow feel almost insignificant beside 
you?” 

Margie said nothing to that, for she found 
nothing to say. She, too, felt the insignifi- 


124 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


cance of the pretty little creature by her side, 
and she wondered why she should feel it in 
these days when she had not felt it during 
the previous years she had known Amelia. 

“How crowded it is going to be,” she 
said, to give the conversation a new turn. 
“I fancy it has leaked out that this is going 
to be something more than three rounds for 
points.” 

Amelia looked around at the streams of 
people filling every aisle, felt very comfortable 
in the consciousness of a Paris gown and 
hat, readjusted her waist as if she were trying 
to give herself a little more room, then sighed 
again. 

“I do hope,” she said doubtfully, “that 
Morgan won’t hurt Arthur. You know he is 
terribly strong and masterful. Why there 
was a time, there at first, before Arthur was 
quite well, when that man fairly fascinated 
me. I don’t know why it was, but I some- 
times felt that I would have to do whatever 
he wished me to.” 

“Oh,” replied Margie, “that was because 
he had such health and strength. I don’t 
believe there is any attraction equal to that 
which a robust, strongly vitalized person 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


125 


has for others, particularly of the opposite 
sex.” 

“But, Margie,” murmured Amelia, opening 
her eyes in wonder, “I should think that 
would be dreadful if it were so. Why, in that 
case you would be attractive to lots of men 
besides Herbert ; and I am sure neither of 
you would like that. You know you are 
what would be called robust and strongly 
vitalized. Why, papa said only yesterday that 
he thought you were the most magnificient 
woman he knew; that it did him good just 
to meet you and say good morning to you.” 

Margie laughed to hide the blush that rose 
to her cheeks, but it was a blush of pure 
pleasure, without a suspicion of resentment. 

“I am glad your father feels so,” she said, 
frankly. “Herbert says that all men and 
women ought to be glad to feel just that 
way toward each other; that it is a sign of 
health, and ought to be encouraged.” 

“Well, I can tell you I wouldn’t encourage 
any other girl to be attracted by Arthur. 
He is mine, and I want him all to myself” 

Margie was silent for a few moments, 
evidently debating something with herself 
Then she said hesitatingly : 


126 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“ Amelia, dear ! If you really want Arthur 
all to yourself, why don’t you make yourself 
strong and well like me?” 

Amelia looked up with a faintly startled 
expression in her eyes, then tossed her pretty 
head proudly. 

• ” I want Arthur to love me, not my body, 
and I am not afraid of his liking some other 
girl better because she happens to be stronger 
than I. Besides, I’m not sick. I’ll soon be 
as well as ever.” 

She drew herself up and smoothed her 
waist down in the way so common in women 
who are striving for more room than their 
corsets allow their poor bodies. 

Margie said no more, feeling that already 
she might have gone further than Arthur 
would like; for although he had shown him- 
self concerned over Amelia’s lack of perfect 
health, he had never discussed it with any- 
body. 

Fortunately the entertainment was about 
to begin, and talking ceased ; but if there was 
no more conversation between Margie and 
Amelia, both of them went on thinking of the 
subject they had just discussed. 

It was an altogether new idea to Amelia 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


127 


that physical health could have anything 
whatever to do with love, and she was dis- 
posed to scout it. She was rather inclined 
to think that most men liked a woman to be 
weak and dependent. True, Arthur had talked 
to her about injuring herself by wearing cor- 
sets, but she had put that aside as due to the 
influence of Herbert, who was associated in 
her mind as always nursing some new fad. 

Besides, as she always said, she wasn’t 
sick, but only a little ailing, due to the fatigue 
of traveling a little too much the last few 
months in Europe. She had begun to feel 
not quite herself when they were touring 
Italy. She knew she would be all right after 
she had been home a few weeks. 

In the meanwhile, Arthur, quite nude, save 
for a towel wound about his loins, stood in 
the middle of one of the dressing rooms near 
the stage entrance, being rubbed down by 
Herbert, who had undertaken the duties of 
trainer for him. 

Indeed Herbert was so proud of Arthur 
that not for anything would he have per- 
mitted any body else to perform that office 
for him. And if ever an athlete were a fit 
subject for pride it was Arthur. 


128 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


Steadily he had been developing under 
the eareful direction of Herbert and the gym- 
nasium instructors, until now he was an 
almost perfect specimen of manhood. 

He had not been trained into the Hercules 
type, with abnormal lumps of muscle standing 
out over his body, but was so evenly devel- 
oped that a competent judge would have 
found it difficult to decide whether he was best 
fitted to be a runner, wrestler or boxer. 

He stood nearly six feet in height, and as 
he moved easily in one direction and another 
to suit the wish of Herbert, the muscles could 
be seen to play under a skin as soft and 
smooth as a baby’s. 

His legs were strong, well rounded and 
beautifully proportioned; his arms were of 
almost classical length, hanging easily from 
his shoulders, and of a bigness that did not 
betray itself, so perfect was the proportion 
between girth and length. As for his chest, 
that important indicator of vitality, it was 
at once so broad and so deep as to make 
his flat, sinewy abdomen seem small. 

If one who had seen Arthur in those 
wretched days when he was dying under the 
ministrations of his ignorant physician, had 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


129 


come upon him now, as he stood there in a 
condition to betray the full grandeur of his 
physical perfection, he could not have believed 
that this was the same man. 

Where had once been a dull -eye, a drawn 
face, a sallow complexion, a dejected mien, 
a hollow-chested skeleton, was now the bright- 
eyed, alert, vitalized athlete, with a pink and 
white skin, an indomitable air of hope and 
purpose, an example of life at its best. 

Herbert worked over him with an air of 
delight and pride, pleasant to see; and when 
he had given the last careful touch he threw 
a light robe over him and bade him lie down 
and wait for the call to come for him. 

“You don’t seem at all nervous,” he said, 
as he looked into the smiling, alert face, 
“but we musn’t take any chanees. So rest 
quietly.” 

“I’m not nervous about the result,” an- 
swered Arthur, “but I know I shall have a 
sort of nervousness eome over me when I 
step out before the speetators and know that 
I am on exhibition.” 

“But that will pass as soon as you begin 
work?” queried Herbert. 

“From the moment we begin I shall be 
9 


130 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


all right. Don’t have any fear for me. If 
he wins it will be beeause he is the better 
man, not beeause I have not done my best.” 

“You are in the pink of eondition, and 
you ought to win; but he’s the best man 
you’ve ever stood up before ; don’t make any 
mistake about that, Arthur ; and he is going 
to put up the fight of his life.” 

Arthur rose to his elbow, and his faee set 
in grim, hard lines. 

“I shall put up the fight of my life, Her- 
bert. I don’t forget the things he has said 
and done.” 

“Lie down!” said Herbert, in a tone of 
quiet authority, “I don’t wish to put any 
disturbing thoughts into your head, but I 
do want to talk this over with you, old man. 
You musn’t go into this fight with any other 
thought than winning, beeause you want the 
ehampionship. Don’t let so small a thing as 
revenge animate you, Arthur.” 

Arthur smiled as he fell baek, and there 
was an evenness in his tone that assured 
Herbert he was speaking only the truth. 

“It isn’t revenge I want at all, and I shall 
not be fighting for it. What I want more 
than anything else is to prove to him that 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


131 


I am without any doubt the better man. 
After that he shall not exist for me. As for 
the championship, I must confess that is 
incidental.” 

“I’m satisfied,” said Herbert, in a tone 
of relief. “I ought to have known that you 
would not allow yourself to be controlled by 
a mean spirit, but I was so anxious that you 
should not enter the ropes in a frame of mind 
to ruin your mental poise that I spoke.” 

“I shall hit him no harder than I would 
a stranger with whom I might be contesting 
the championship; but,” he added, with a 
grim smile, “I should hit a stranger the most 
soothing blow I could. I go in hoping to put 
my gentleman to sleep.” 

Herbert thrust his hands into his pockets 
and leaned back with a comfortable sigh. 
He no longer felt any discomfort. If Arthur 
were beaten it would be only because he had 
met a better man. 

“I fancy,” he said, “that Morgan will not 
be in the same even frame of mind that you 
are. In fact you will have to watch that his 
viciousness does not make him force the 
fighting, and perhaps put you to sleep when 
you at least expect it.” 


132 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“I’ll be cautious.” 

“And remember that he won the cham- 
pionship through sheer merit. He is the best 
man you have ever faced.” 

“I am sure he is.” 

Herbert now changed the subject and 
talked with Arthur about all sorts of in- 
teresting but not exciting matters, dwelling 
particularly on that topic of topics for him— 
his little daughter Gertrude. 

And it was the best subject of conver- 
sation there could have been for Arthur, for 
he adored the baby, and the thought of her 
brought nothing but peace and contentment 
to him. 

When he was called to go out he jumped 
up in surprise that the time had gone so 
quickly; and it would have been impossible 
for a man to be more “fit” than he for 
the trying ordeal through which he had to 
pass. 

It was as he had predicted. When he threw 
off his robe and stood out on the stage he 
was nervous. He heard the applause that 
greeted him and Morgan, and as he looked 
over the sea of faces he seemed to realize 
that the whispering that was going on related 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


133 


to the fact that this was to be something 
more than an ordinary sparring match. 

But the slight blur that was before his 
eyes, the trembling he felt at his knees, the 
tremor he had at his heart, all passed away 
as if they had never existed when the signal 
to begin the contest was given. 

He looked Morgan in the face and was un- 
moved by the ugly, sinister smile he saw 
there. He glanced over the body of his an- 
tagonist, and saw without fear the magni- 
ficent physique he must conquer. 

As for the spectators, the more closely 
they studied the two men the more doubt 
of the result entered their minds. Morgan 
was a heavier, taller man, and seemed much 
more massive; but, on the other hand, the 
knowing ones noticed the length of Arthur’s 
arms, the symmetry of his muscular develop- 
ment, the solidity and compactness of his 
figure, which showed that both agility and 
strength had been cultivated.” 

“That young fellow, Raymond, is as loose 
as ashes,” said an old sporting man to his 
companion. “If he gets a fair blow at the 
big fellow he’ll make him wish he had a pillow 
with him.” 


134 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Morgan’s no slouch, all the same,” was 
the answer. “We’ll see three rounds, with 
the best man winning, which is more than 
you can say when you go to a professional 
contest.” 

And both men settled down to enjoy 
themselves, while Arthur and Morgan took 
stoek of each other, an easy matter since 
both were nude from the waist up. 

Time had been ealled, and they were test- 
ing each other’s skill by a series of pretty 
feints, easy blows, swift recovers, ehanging 
guards. It took but a few seeonds for both 
to know that there was not to be an instant 
of ehild’s play. 

Presently Morgan purposely invited a faee 
blow from Arthur by opening his defence, and 
when Arthur took advantage of it dealt him 
a blow in the stomaeh that would have been 
very serious had not Arthur been prepared 
for just such a ruse. 

Each drew baek, feeling that he had had 
something like a measure of the other’s skill ; 
each felt an inereased respect for the other. 
The only difference between their feelings was 
that Morgan’s hatred of Arthur grew with 
the conseiousness that he was a dangerous 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


135 


antagonist, and coupled with it was rage at 
the possibility of defeat where he had expected 
victory. 

But few blows were landed with any effect 
in the first round, which was no more than 
a very fine exhibition of sparring, in which, 
to the uninitiated spectators, the skill of the 
contestants was clearly exhibited. 

Even Amelia lost her terror of Morgan when 
she saw how cleverly Arthur avoided the blows 
that were launched at him; and she came to 
the conclusion that so many others did that 
the bout would end much as it had begun. 

But Arthur and Herbert, in their corner, 
with two other seconds, working over him, 
were thinking differently and saying so. 

“He is very clever,” said Arthur in a 
whisper, “but his condition is not as good 
as mine.” 

“No; but you must avoid a serious blow 
for he is a terrible hitter. He is making for 
your stomach, I am sure. Give him plenty 
of work in this round, and he ought to be 
yours in the third.” 

“I think I have his measure,” answered 
Arthur, his eyes shining, “and I mean to keep 
him going now.” 


136 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Look out for his right,” said one of the 
other seconds. “He’ll play with his left and 
use his right for a surprise. I’ve known him 
to do that more than once.” 

Time was called again, and both men 
stepped out ready, and it was evident at 
once that both had come to the same deter- 
mination; both meant to force the fighting. 

And now it was that Arthur showed of 
what stuff he was made. A few swift but 
not telling blows were exchanged, and they 
warmed up to their work. They moved about 
the stage like two panthers, their fists shoot- 
ing out, their heads moving with swift, auto- 
matic action, their lithe bodies never still, 
their feet moving with a marvellous precision 
and rapidity. 

Suddenly Morgan rushed Arthur across 
the stage; Arthur side stepped and evaded 
him. There was a mix-up so swift and close 
that only the initiated could follow it, and 
Morgan staggered out of it impelled by a 
hard blow on his jaw. 

Arthur had fooled him, had bested him 
in the quick exchange of savage blows. He 
saw that he had not correctly taken Arthur’s 
measure. He was outwitted, outpointed. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


137 


Rage took possession of him, and he rushed 
baek with a fury that pushed Arthur baek 
and put him to his best to defend himself. 

But he did defend himself from blows of 
fearful force, and crept around so deftly that 
the spectators broke into a storm of applause. 
Arthur smiled confidently. Morgan was mad- 
dened. 

He rushed again. He was confident at 
least of his superior force and weight, and 
felt that Arthur could not resist him when 
he rained those terrible blows on him. 

Arthur’s eyes glowed. He never missed a 
move that Morgan made, though it seemed 
to those looking on that the swiftness of the 
storm of blows must be almost paralyzing. 

He backed and backed; he dodged and 
guarded ; he stood up and feinted ; he shrank ; 
he side stepped. The fury of Morgan seemed 
irresistible, and no one but the cleverest could 
see that there was any lack of skill. 

Then Arthur, seeing his opportunity at 
last, changed into a tiger himself, and landed 
a short-arm blow just when it seemed as if 
the other were pushing him to his last defence. 

Morgan staggered and Arthur followed up. 
He did the rushing now, raining blows with 


138 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


dazzling rapidity. The house went wild. 
Hoarse cries went up from some of the most 
excited. 

Suddenly a clean blow fell on Morgan’r- 
face, sending his head back with a jerk. He 
staggered, recovered, fought wildly, his labored 
breath coming and going audibly. 

“Time!” 

“Ah!” sighed the sporting man, dropping 
back in his seat and mopping his brow with 
his handkerchief “In a minute more Morgan 
would have hunted grass. I wouldn’t miss 
the next round for a thousand dollars.” 

“Be careful, be careful!” Herbert was say- 
ing to Arthur, “ He lost his head a little that 
round, but he will be himself now. He will 
do you if he can, for he is in a wicked rage.” 

“Rage is a bad thing,” murmured Arthur, 
saving his wind for something more impor- 
tant than speech. 

“He can be mad and yet fight coolly,” 
said one of the other seconds. “Look out 
for him.” 

“But you’ve got to force the fighting,” 
said Herbert. 

Arthur nodded his head. 

“Time!” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


139 


The two men sprang out nothing the worse 
for what they had gone through. Morgan 
had himself under control now. He was in 
a murderous mood, but was like an icicle. 
He meant to win, and to win with such a 
blow as Arthur might forever wish had not 
been dealt him ; and Morgan well knew where 
and how to land such a blow. 

Arthur began as Morgan had hoped he 
would, by forcing the fighting. Morgan meant 
to bide his time now. Arthur had done so 
before and had profited by it. And yet Mor- 
gan had the appearance of making speedy 
work, too. 

But presently he finds that there is a dif- 
ference. Arthur rushes the fighting indeed, 
but he does it with all his wits about him 
and with a confident smile constantly on his 
handsome face. 

Oh, if Morgan could but mar the good 
looks of his antagonist. 

Arthur gets in a good left-hander, but 
instantly Morgan’s right takes him on the 
jaw, and there is a moment when the place is 
full of electric sparks; but while Morgan is 
following up the blow with wicked exultation 
in his black eyes, Arthur recovers, defends 


140 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


himself, and the two men break away for 
an instant. 

Arthur is himself at onee, and closes his 
right reaching Morgan on the tip of the chin. 
The latter’s head goes back, and he is dazed ; 
but the blow that should have put him to 
sleep was a trifle short, and he recovers. 

He loses his self-control again, forgets his 
determination to wait, and rushes Arthur, 
who slips out of his way and takes toll of 
his ear as he passes. 

Morgan, beside himself now, and panting 
hard, knows that he must end the battle 
soon. He rushes again, but Arthur changes 
his tactics at once and stands his ground. 
An exchange of frightful blows follows, as if 
both had thrown all notion of defence away. 

But not so ; Arthur has been only tiring 
the other. He gathers all his force and rushes 
at his antagonist. Morgan defends himself 
now with desperation. Only his wonderful 
skill saves him. 

The crowd is beside itself with excitement. 
The battle may end at any moment. The 
names of both men rise over the tumult. 
Nothing like this has been seen in many a 
year. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


141 


Suddenly Arthur’s right hand shoots out 
and lands with terrific force on Morgan’s 
stomach. Those who have seen the blow 
know the sickness that leaps to the stricken 
man’s face. Morgan wilted, staggered back. 
He could have done murder in that moment, 
for he knew that he had met his master. 

But his courage was of the bull-dog sort. 
He had no thought of giving up. 

The spectators were standing up all over 
the hall, some on chairs, crying out Arthur’s 
name. Others were screaming “Sit down!” 
“Sit down!” Pandemonium reigned. 

Morgan straightens up, and with the cour- 
age born of desperation rushes at Arthur, his 
jaws set, his teeth showing, his eyes glaring. 
He launches such a blow as would end the 
contest could it land ; but Arthur, cool now 
as an iceberg, evades it, and lands a crushing 
right-hand blow on Morgan’s chin. 

Like an ox in the shambles, Morgan drops 
in a heap. His day is over.. Champion no 
more. Beaten in love ; beaten in war ! 

He struggles feebly, pitifully to recover con- 
sciousness, half rises and falls back again. He 
hears the seconds being counted over him as 
if some one were preaching his funeral sermon. 


142 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


He makes a fearful effort, turns on hands 
and knees, staggers to his feet, and makes 
a tottering rush at Arthur, who only shrugs 
his shoulders and pushes him away as if he 
had been a child. 

“Time!” 

It was not a knock-out blow, but the 
defeat was none the less humiliating. There 
was no need of the decision of the referee. 
The spectators, crying out Arthur’s name, 
gave the award unanimously. 

“That’s what I call sport,” said the man 
who had picked Arthur as the winner from 
the first. 


CHAPTER XI 


Before Arthur could get to his dressing 
room he was surrounded by his many friends 
and aequaintances, eager to eongratulate 
him on his victory ; for there had been unusual 
feeling over the match partly because Morgan 
was disliked, and partly beeause he had left 
the elub in anger. 

Arthur received their eompliments with 
perfect modesty, and went to his dressing- 
room to be rubbed down and to dress, Her- 
bert hurrying him as much as possible. 

When they were alone Herbert for the 
first time betrayed what his anxiety and 
interest had been, almost hugging Arthur 
in his delight, patting him on the shoulder, 
praising him unstintedly and telling .him 
over and over how well he had done. 

“I think,” he said in the course of the 
talk, “that if you had not beaten that 
fellow so thoroughly I should have gone to 
bed ill.” 

Arthur laughed, pleased to see his self- 


144 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


contained brother-in-law betray so much feel- 
ing ; then he grew serious and said : 

“I am glad I whipped him, but I am 
still more glad that I went to meet him 
without meanness of spirit. I used to hate 
him, but it seems to me that since I have 
grown strong I have also grown bigger in 
nature.” 

“Ah,” replied Arthur, “I believe that no 
man can be at his best morally and spirit- 
ually unless he is also his best physically. 
Unfortunately a man may be a physical 
giant and a moral dwarf ; Morgan for 
example.” 

“Poor Morgan!” said Arthur. 

“Don’t waste your pity on him,” cried 
Herbert quickly; “but rather look out for 
him. He will only hate you more for this, 
and will never cease trying to injure you. 
But to ehange the subjeet for a pleasanter 
one, I want to tell you that Bernardo, the 
great sculptor, asked me if I would not in- 
troduce him to you as soon as you were 
dressed.” 

“Bernardo! I’d like to meet him, but 
why should he want to see me?” 

“May want to get up a match with you,” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


l45 


laughed Herbert. “What do you say if I 
bring him in here? If you see him in the 
club parlors you know he will be only one 
of a hundred talking to you.” 

“ Bring him in ! ” said Arthur, moved mainly 
by a wish to please, and little dreaming of the 
momentous results to follow his unimportant 
interview with the artist. 

Mr. Bernardo proved to be a gentleman 
of charming personality and most engaging 
manners; his robust physique proving him a 
disciple of physical culture, while his Vandyke 
beard and his head of bushy brown hair, which 
had been permitted to grow in defiance of 
the conventional mode, suggested the artist. 

“Pardon me for intruding on you at 
such a time, Mr. Raymond,” he said as he 
entered the room, and without waiting for 
the formality of a presentation, “but as a 
member of the club I wished to thank you for 
winning it honors in such splendid fashion, 
while as an artist I wanted to tell you that 
you have the finest physique I have ever 
seen.” 

“Oh, thank you,” murmured Arthur in 
some embarrassment at this frank compli- 
ment. 


146 ' 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“No, don’t thank me,’’ said the artist with 
a smile; “thank yourself for that, for Mr. 
Courtney tells me you have worked hard to 
arrive at sueh a condition of physical per- 
fection. Ah, sir ! I have not had such de- 
light in many a day as in studying you. 
Perhaps I annoy you with my frankness. 
Pardon me if I do; but as an artist I am 
selfish.’’ 

“I cannot see that you are selfish,” an- 
swered Arthur, who was unfeignedly delighted 
at being so praised by one whose word car- 
ried authority. “And I would not be so 
hypocritical as to pretend that I was any- 
thing but pleased with your praise.” 

“Ah, but I am selfish, even in telling you 
the truth; and I can easily prove it.” 

“Please do so,” responded Arthur, finish- 
ing his toilet and sitting down to listen to 
the vivacious artist. 

“Well, I am just now at work on a group 
in marble, which I think will be my master- 
piece, embodying as it does an idea on which 
I have wrought for some years. Perhaps, 
by the way, you are interested in sculpture?” 

“Very much. I have plaster casts of many 
of the old Greek sculptors, which I have 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


147 


studied in an effort to understand the ideal 
in physique.” 

“So mueh the better! so mueh the better. 
And no wonder you hare aeeomplished so 
mueh with yourself sinee you have taken so 
mueh pains. Perhaps you would like to see 
my group in the elay. I have not begun on 
the marble yet.” 

“I should be delighted,” answered Arthur, 
who was nevertheless puzzled to know why 
he should be invited to view it. 

“Perhaps even — ” Here the artist hesi- 
tated and looked at Arthur with a humorous 
expression lighting up his faee. “You will 
now see that I am at onee selfish and diplo- 
matie. I tell you pleasant things about your- 
self to put you in a good humor, then I 
interest you in my poor efforts, and finally 
I put the grand question — unless you already 
guess it?” 

“Indeed I do not,” answered Arthur with 
a smile. 

“Well, then, will you pose for me? I need, 
more than I can tell you, such a man as 
you. Come! you will not refuse me?” 

“It is very flattering,” answered Arthur 
hesitatingly, “but really I do not think it 


148 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


will be possible. I could not spare the time; 
and, besides, I never have done such a thing, 
and—” 

“I know; you think, perhaps, there is 
something objectionable in posing in the 
nude. Now I assure you — ” 

“No, no! do not think me so foolish,’’ 
Arthur hastened to interrupt. “I have no 
such thought. I merely doubt my ability to 
pose properly. But that is of little conse- 
quence, anyhow; the real objection is that 
I have not the time. father is ill, and all 
my time is occupied.” 

Bernardo looked more than a little dis- 
appointed, and cried out impulsively : 

“But I cannot give you up. You have 
the most magnificent body I have ever seen 
in my life; and you must know that the hu- 
man body has been my life study, so that 
I know what I am talking about. I have 
been so fortunate as to secure a female model 
as fine in her way as you in yours; and I 
simply will not take no from you. Why, con- 
sider! this is my master-work. Come! re- 
consider ! ” 

“It is useless to reconsider. I really would 
like to oblige you, but I simply cannot.” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


149 


“I am afraid the remuneration would 
not tempt you, or I would say that I am 
prepared to pay you twenty-five dollars an 
hour.” 

Arthur opened his eyes wide at the amount 
offered, but shook his head. 

“Impossible,” he said. 

“If more would tempt you,” said the 
artist, the keenest disappointment in his 
tone. 

“No, if I could accept your offer I should 
consider myself overpaid with the sum you 
name. I did not suppose such prices were 
paid to models.” 

“It is exceptional; but you are exceptional. 
At least promise me you will come around 
to my studio and look at my group. I have 
some other things there, too, that may in- 
terest you.” 

“I shall be only too glad to visit your 
studio.” 

Mr. Bernardo rose reluctantly and put 
out his hand to Arthur, who shook it cor- 
dially. 

“I cannot tell you how chagrined I am,” 
said the artist sorrowfully. “When I saw 
you come out this evening I said to myself 


150 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


that my lucky star was in the ascendant, 
and I did nothing but devour every curve of 
your magnificent body while you thumped 
that unfortunate Morgan. It seemed aetually 
as if the very fates had been at work for 
me; for only a short time ago I came upon 
the young lady who poses for the female 
figure; and when I tell you that she is as 
superb as you in her physical development, 
you will understand how fortunate I was.” 

“Yes,” interposed Herbert, speaking for 
the first time, “I suppose that it is really 
more difficult to find a perfect woman than 
a perfect man.” 

“Difficult!” cried the artist with great 
animation; “why it often seems to me as 
if the women of the civilized world gave the 
best of their thought, and bent all their 
energies to trying to defeat the intentions 
of nature as to their bodies. Shoes to distort 
their feet! long, heavy, impeding skirts to 
weaken their legs and make them knock- 
kneed ! corsets to displace the viscera and 
lessen vitality! high collars to make Their 
throats flabby ! There ! do not start me or 
I shall be ungallant.” 

“If they would only listen to reason!” 


‘ A STRENUOUS LOVER 151 

said Arthur with sudden depression. “I have 
a sister — Mr. Courtney’s wife — who is a splen- 
did speeimen, but other women to whom I 
have spoken on the subject — ” He suddenly 
checked himself, looked suspiciously at Her- 
bert and shrugged his shoulders as if dis- 
missing the subject. 

The talk went on on the same subject, 
but Arthur took no further part in it then, 
or later when he and Herbert were alone 
together and the latter purpose brought 
up the subject again. 

Instead of doing so, he turned the con- 
versation on the artist, praising him warmly 
and declaring that he meant some day to 
visit him. Herbert, upon this, made no fur- 
ther effort to discuss the subject with Arthur, 
but that evening told Margie of the matter, 
adding : 

“I think something is wrong between Ar- 
thur and Amelia, and that corsets have some- 
thing to do with it.” 

“I am sure of it,” Margie answered, and, 
in her turn, repeated to Herbert the conver- 
sation between her and Amelia in the audi- 
torium. 

“WTiat shall you do about it?” he asked. 


152 A STRENUOUS LOVER 

“I shall offer my services to Arthur. That 
is as far as I have any right to go.” 

“I am glad to hear you say so. I have 
noticed for some time that Amelia was not 
well ; and it was easy to see that she was only 
suffering the natural consequences of her tight 
lacing. Poor child!” 

The next day after dinner, and before 
Arthur had gone out to see Amelia, accord- 
ing to his custom, Margie found an oppor- 
tunity to be alone with him; and with the 
frankness which was characteristic of her 
she broached the subject at once. 

“I had a talk with Amelia last night 
about corsets, Arthur,” she said. 

His face lightened up instantly, and he 
looked at her eagerly. 

“Yes, Margie?” 

“Yes, but I didn’t say much, because she 
stopped me at once, declaring she would not 
listen.” 

Arthur sighed, and the troubled look that 
had been in his eyes at first returned again. 

“She isn’t well, Margie, and I know it is 
because of her corsets. She says she doesn’t 
lace, that her corsets are loose, and that 
she isn’t really sick. And now she refuses to 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 153 

hear any more on the subject. I don’t know 
what to do. She could be well and strong, 
and she won’t be.” 

Margie put her hand lovingly on her 
brother’s. 

“Perhaps after you are married you can 
influence her more,” she said. 

“She won’t talk about marriage either 
until she is quite well; and I know she will 
never be well until she dresses and lives ration- 
ally. I have told her how strong and well 
you are; but, upon my word, I believe she 
thinks such robustness as yours is unlady- 
like. I really do.” 

“Couldn’t you insist upon having a full 
talk with her? Perhaps she doesn’t realize 
the importance of health to a wife and 
mother.” 

“Insist? Why Margie, she hadn’t been 
home a week before I saw that she was no 
longer her old self, but was weak and nervous. 
I think she must have taken to tighter lacing 
while she was abroad. I spoke about it then, 
but she was so shocked at my speaking of 
such a subject at all that I stopped; but I 
took it up again and again until she was no 
longer shocked, anyhow, but became irritated 


154 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


instead, and declared she would not see me if 
I insisted on talking on that subject. And, 
in fact, the next time I went there — about 
two weeks ago now — she sent me down a note 
saying I must promise to never speak of 
corsets again, or she wouldn’t come down.” 

Margie raised her eyebrows. She knew 
something of the obstinacy of the pretty lit- 
tle creature and realized the dilemma Arthur 
was in. 

“What if I speak to her, Arthur? She 
couldn’t treat me in that way, you know. 
And really she has no right to be either wife 
or mother in her state of health. She ought 
to be told so.” 

“I don’t know that it will do any good, 
Margie,” he answered despondently, “but I 
wish you would. You know if I were to sug- 
gest such a thing as the possibility of her 
being a mother some time she would think 
I had overstepped the bounds of propriety. 
I don’t know what she thinks men and women 
marry for if it is not for offspring.” 

The last words were spoken petulantly, 
and Margie studied her buother for some 
time in silence, he staring out of the window, 
his thoughts apparently far away. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


155 


“Of course,” she said at last in a very 
gentle tone, “you love her just the same as 
ever?” 

“Certainly I do. Why do you ask such 
a question?” 

It was seldom indeed that Arthur lost his 
temper, and that he did so now, indicated 
how much he was disturbed by Amelia’s 
attitude toward the question of her health. 

“And you would make her your wife 
whether she were well or ill?” Margie went 
on, unmoved by his irritation. 

Arthur jumped up from his chair and 
turned his back to his sister while, with his 
hands thrust deep into his pockets, he looked 
out of the window. Margie waited ; and after 
some time he turned toward her, saying in 
a troubled tone : 

“Margie! Margie! I torture myself with 
that question day and night. Have I the 
right to let her be the mother of my chil- 
dren? I do love her, Margie; I do. And if 
she would only be well and strong as she 
may if she will, I know we could be happy 
together. But oh, Margie ! I shame to say 
it, she does not draw me and thrill me as 
she once did.” 


156 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“How can she, Arthur dear, if she lack 
vitality?” 

“But is love a matter of physical health? 
Ought I not love her better and better, and 
be more tender with her because she is not 
strong?” 

“Love is not a sentiment to be coerced, 
Arthur. You love her or you do not. If 
you do not you have no right to marry 
her.” 

“Not even if I have won her love? Would 
it not be a dastardly thing to tell her that 
because she is not as well and strong as she 
was I find I do not love her? Would you 
respect me if I were to do such a thing?” 

“I would not respect you if you deceived 
her, Arthur.” 

“But I do love her.” 

Margie looked at him doubtfully. She 
did not believe he loved as a man should 
love the woman he would bind to his side 
for life. 

“Suppose,” she said, “Amelia should utter- 
ly refuse to take the steps which will result 
in her cure; would she be fit to be a mother?” 

“No.” 

“Has she a right to bring children into 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


157 


the world unless she can endow them with 
good health?” 

“No.” 

“Have you a right to father such children 
even if she were willing to be their mother?” 

“I would be the worst kind of a criminal.” 

“Then if you marry Amelia and she is un- 
fit to be a mother, your sense of right would 
demand that there should be no children.” 

“But that is unthinkable. To marry with- 
out the intention of having offspring would 
be a living horror.” 

“Then if you loved her a hundred times 
more than you do, would you dare to make 
her your wife unless she were well enough to 
be a mother?” 

“No, no, Margie! But what shall I do? 
Do not think I have not gone over this 
ground in my own thoughts, though scorn- 
ing myself for doing it. But although I come 
always to the same conclusion, yet I remem- 
ber that I have won her love, and that she 
loves me of all men in the world, that her 
heart would break if she were to know that 
I feel as I do. And it is not as if I did not 
love her. I do, and would do anything for her 
happiness.” 


158 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Do you love her as a man should his 
wife, Arthur? Do you thrill at her touch? 
Does your blood begin to move faster at 
the sight of her, at the sound of her voice?” 

“It used to be so,” he answered in a low 
tone; “it is so no more. I think— and I 
shame to think — that it would be so again 
if she were now as she was, strong, active 
and well. And yet I love her, Margie.” 

“Would you like my advice, Arthur?” 

“You do not need to ask. No one can 
advise me as well. You are a woman and 
should see her side; you are my sister and 
should feel for me.” 

“ I do feel for you and for her, too, Arthur. 
I said I would speak to her, but I think now 
that you would best do so yourself. Go to 
her and demand that she listen to you. You 
are engaged to marry, and have a better 
right to speak of parenthood than a man 
and woman about to marry?” 

“And if she refuse to listen?” 

“She will not if you are firm.” 

“And if she refuse to take my advice?” 

“Ah, Arthur! you must ask that question 
not only of your own heart, but of your 
own knowledge, your own wisdom. It is not 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


159 


for me to tell you what to do in sueh a 
ease.” 

“You are right, Margie. I have been a 
coward long enough. I will go to her and 
tell her how I feel. And I will go at once.” 

He kissed his sister and left the room 
without another word; and Margie knew by 
his pale, set face that a crisis had been 
reached in two young lives. 

“Poor little Amelia!” she murmured. 


CHAPTER XII 


It is hardly possible to exaggerate the 
difficulties of Arthur’s position in relation to 
Amelia. He knew what a high spirit and 
what a strong will were hidden by the sweet- 
ness and gentleness of her nature; and he 
dreaded the consequences of insisting on 
talking with her on the subject of corsets. 

He knew how her real nature was belied by 
her seeming weakness and frivolity; but for 
that very reason he was the more sure that he 
would find her immovable unless he could con- 
trive to hit upon the exact appeal that would 
compel her sympathy with his view. 

The trouble was that poor little Amelia 
had been instructed in almost everything but 
herself. Of herself she knew nothing, and had 
a horror of knowing anything. Nor could she 
reconcile it with either propriety or nice feeling 
that Arthur should wish to discuss “forbid- 
den” or risque subjects. 

Moreover, she felt very strongly that he 
was outside of his own province in trying to 
govern the sort of clothing she should wear. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


161 


If his sister chose to go without corsets to 
please her husband, that was her affair; but 
neither Arthur nor any other man should 
decide for her. 

She said this, even to herself, in her own 
pretty, piquant way, as if she were only half 
in earnest ; but that was only because she had 
no idea that Arthur would push the matter 
any further than he had already done. 

She had already consulted with others on 
the subject, and felt herself at once fortified 
and justified in her attitude. One of the first 
persons she had gone to was her father. 

Of course, it was a very delicate subject for 
an American girl to talk to her father about, 
but she needed some information which only 
he could give her. She went to him as he sat 
in the library, one evening, just before the 
gas was lighted. And she would not let him 
light it because it would be so much easier to 
talk about such a thing in a dim light. 

“No,” she had said in her pretty peremp- 
tory way, “I don’t want the light. I am 
going to sit down here and talk to you.” 

“Sit on my lap then,” he said, tenderly; 
for she was the object on which he lavished 
all his love. 


162 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“No, not until I have asked my questions.” 

“I begin to be frightened. It isn’t another 
new hat?” 

“Oh, no; I wouldn’t talk to you about 
hats. I might talk to you about the bills, 
but not the hats. Men don’t know anything 
about hats. Well, I don’t think they do ; but 
maybe they do. Anyhow, maybe they think 
they do. Why do men think they know so 
mueh more than women, papa?” 

“Is that one of the questions?” 

“Now, don’t be a foolish little papa! No, 
that is not one of the questions; that was 
only a little bit of sareasm. What do you_ 
know about eorsets?” 

Little Mr. Winsted was not in the habit of 
thinking about eorsets, let alone talking 
about them; for he was an extremely proper 
person. 

“Er — er — is that one of the questions, 
Amelia. 

“Yes, it is.” 

“Why, my dear,” he answered, after a 
pause, “I must say I know nothing about 
them.” 

“But mamma wore them?” 

“Why, yes, I believe so.” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


163 


“Now, you know she did, don’t you? She 
always wore them, didn’t she?” 

“ I have no doubt she did, my dear. Ladies 
always wear them, I think. I never gave the 
matter much thought, naturally, but I am 
convinced that your mother did wear them. 
She had a beautiful figure ; and I suppose she 
couldn’t have had that unless she wore cor- 
sets; could she?” 

“But you are asking me questions, and I 
didn’t come here for that. Do you mean to 
say you never talked with mamma about 
corsets?” 

“I don’t remember doing so; and I am 
quite sure that I did not. I don’t know why 
I should have chosen such a peculiar subject 
for conversation with her ; and I don’t believe 
I ever did.” 

“ Oh ! you think it a peculiar subject for 
conversation between a lady and gentleman, 
do you?” 

“Why, really, Amelia! don’t you?” 

“There, you are asking questions again! 
Don’t do it again ! I’m to do all the ques- 
tioning. Do you think corsets a peculiar 
subject for conversation between a lady and 
a gentleman?” 


164 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Why, yes. I don’t see how a man can 
know anything about the subject, unless’’ — 
with sudden illumination — “he is in that busi- 
ness. But why do you ask?” 

“Asking questions again! No, a man 
wouldn’t be likely to know much about cor- 
sets. That’s true. And it would be very 
foolish of him to pretend to know. I suppose 
mamma never talked to you about them 
because she took it for granted that you 
wouldn’t know. And you never broached the 
subject because — ^well, because it was none of 
your business. Yes, I see ! Now, I’ll sit on 
your lap for five minutes.” 

“But why have you been asking me such 
strange questions, Amelia? It seems to me 
that if you want to know anything about 
wearing apparel you should go to a dress- 
maker.” 

“What a dear, clever old papa you are! 
Yes, certainly. There ! I’ll kiss you for that 
smart speech.” 

It was now quite clear in Amelia’s mind 
that she had been right in feeling that Arthur 
had transcended the proprieties in talking with 
her about her corsets; but she meant to be 
fortified on all sides ; so she went to see Mrs. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


165 


Raymond one day when she knew Margie 
wasn’t home. 

Maude was with her mother, but Amelia 
did not mind that, knowing that Maude had 
no sympathy with the novel ideas Herbert 
Courtney had brought into the house. Amelia 
opened her business at once. 

“You know, Mrs. Raymond,” she said, 
when the affectionate greetings were over, “I 
have no mother, and have to come to you 
with some of my little troubles.” 

“You could come to no one more eager to 
help you, dear,” was the earnest answer; for 
Arthur’s mother had always loved her little 
neighbor, and since her engagement to Arthur 
had taken her into her heart quite as one of 
her own children. ‘ ‘ What is the matter now ? ’ ’ 

“Oh, it’s the corset question. Arthur 
wants me to give up corsets.” 

“I sometimes think Arthur is worse than 
Herbert,” interjected Maude. “He is forever 
telling me that my only salvation is to stop 
wearing them.” 

“I do wish,” sighed Mrs. Raymond, “he 
wouldn’t be so opinionated. I suppose I’m 
old-fashioned, but I must say I think there 
are some things that we women would better 


166 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


regulate ourselves. I hope you told him, dear, 
that you thought it was a subject you natu- 
rally knew more about than he could.” 

“Well, I told him I just wouldn’t discuss 
the subject with him.” 

“Quite right,” said Maude. 

“But,” added Amelia, earnestly, “I don’t 
want to do wrong and I do love Arthur so 
much that I want to be sure I’m right. You 
know I’m not well, Mrs. Raymond, and Arthur 
declares that I would be if I stopped wearing 
corsets.” 

“Oh, he’s crazy on the subject of physical 
culture,” snapped Maude, whose own health 
was so poor that she was generally irritable. 
“I think he’d try to mend furniture by phys- 
ical culture if he had his way.” 

“Arthur means well, Maude,” said Mrs. 
Raymond, gently, “but of course it is im- 
possible that he should know as much as he 
thinks. He doesn’t know as we do that 
women are never strong.” 

“He points to Margie,” said Amelia, “and 
says she owes her wonderful health and 
strength to giving up corset wearing. And, 
of course, Margie is well; isn’t she?” 

“Of course she’s well,” cried Maude, “but 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


167 


she always was. Arthur might just as well 
tell us to take our shoes off. As for Margie, 
she would have been well anyhow; and she 
may go without corsets or without shoes if 
she wants to ; but I won’t make a fright of 
myself” 

“I must say,” sighed Mrs. Raymond, “that 
I don’t see either sense or modesty in giving 
up corsets. Why, I would fall to pieces if I 
took mine off. And as for looks, you need 
only ask any dressmaker to fit you without 
corsets if you want to hear her opinion.” 

“Oh,” said Amelia at once, “you should 
have heard Madame Mathilde when I spoke 
to her about giving up corsets. Of course, 
I only did it to hear what she would say. 
Well, she did give the dress-reformers fits. 
And really you know they are a fanny lot.” 

“I spoke to Dr. Brayton about the mat- 
ter,” Mrs. Raymond said, “and he told me it 
was only a fad that would soon be out of 
fashion. He said it was very well known that 
consumption was less common among women 
than men, and that is was undoubtedly 
the corset that brought about such a con- 
dition.” 

“Really?” 


168 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Yes, and he laughed heartily when I told 
him that Herbert and Arthur laid Margie’s 
good health to her having given up her eor- 
sets. No, Amelia, you may depend upon it 
that they don’t know what they are talking 
about. I only hope poor Margie won’t have 
cause to regret what she has done.’’ 

“Her shape is spoiled already,” said Maude. 
“She’ll never get her waist back. She ad- 
mits, herself, that it is four inches larger than 
it was. And her hips do not seem nearly so 
finely proportioned as they were formerly. 
Have you noticed that, Amelia?” 

“They certainly are not as prominent.” 

“For my part,” went on Maude, “I’d like 
to be well and strong, but if I were sure I 
could be so by giving up my corsets, I can 
tell you I’d stop and think a long time before 
I’d do it.” 

“I’d like to be well, too,” said Amelia; 
“and sometimes I think that if I were sure 
I’d be better without corsets I might give 
them up. But I’ve got myself to a good 
shape now — you’d be surprised how small my 
waist is— and unless I am sure— You don’t 
think there is anything in it, Mrs. Ray- 
mond?” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


169 


“There’s nonsense in it, my dear, and 
nothing else. If corsets were such evil things 
I guess the fact would have been discovered 
before Arthur came along to find it out.’’ 

They all laughed gaily at this, and felt 
that Mrs. Raymond had settled the question 
very effectually. 

“And you wouldn’t give in to Arthur 
about it if you were in my place?” Amelia 
asked. 

“Certainly not, my dear. I think we 
women know our own business best. Be firm 
and he’ll soon give up this notion. He’s so 
young, dear, that it isn’t strange he thinks he 
knows more than he really does.” 

Thoroughly fortified now, Amelia was pre- 
pared to take a firm stand against Arthur in 
case he should insist upon again discussing 
the subject of corsets. 

That he would approach the subject in a 
mood so serious as his was she did not dream. 
There certainly did not seem to her to be the 
material for a tragedy in such a subject as a 
part of her wearing apparel. 

She could see that he was troubled, how- 
ever, when he met her on the evening of his 
talk with Margie, and as she was a very 


170 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


tender-hearted little creature, she nestled very 
close to him and said softly : 

“Has something gone wrong with you, 
Arthur, dear? You look tired and anxious, 
as if something were worrying you.” 

“There is nothing wrong with me,” he 
answered, “but I am unhappy about you. I 
can’t bear to see you growing paler and 
weaker all the while.” 

“Oh,” she said brightly, “don’t worry 
about me; I’m taking a new tonic now that 
will bring me about; the doctor is sure it 
will.” 

“Do you remember how he kept drugging 
me until I refused to take any more of his 
vile stuff?” 

“ This is different, Arthur, dear. But never 
mind about that! I have a quarrel with 
you, sir. Do you know that you never told 
me a word of the fine things that sculptor 
said to you?” 

“I’ll tell you all about that later, if you 
care to hear it, but I must talk to you about 
yourself, dear. Your health is the most pre- 
cious possession you have, and I want you 
to—” 

“All right,” she said in a tone of resigna- 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


171 


tion, “go on if you will, but if you knew how 
tired I am of that subject you would never 
broach it again.” 

“But you must want to get well, Amelia?” 

“And papa is paying the doctor to make 
me so. You dear old Arthur ! don’t you sup- 
pose I am as much concerned as anybody 
else?” 

“The doctor will never make you well, 
Amelia ; drugs will never make you well. You 
are violating the laws of health, and as long 
as you do, you will suffer. I know you don’t 
want me to talk about — ” 

“Arthur!” she cried, starting to her feet, 
“you know I will not listen to you if you 
talk about that forbidden topic.” 

“Amelia, dear,” he answered, pleadingly, 
“ I must talk to you about it. I have thought 
and thought, and I see no other way. You 
are the most precious object in my life. I 
love you with all my heart and soul, and I 
shall not be true to either you or myself if 
I do not speak the truth as I see it.” 

“You have no right to say anything I for- 
bid you to,” she cried with spirit. 

“Not if I beg you in the name of our love 
to listen?” he pleaded. 


172 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“There are some things I must judge the 
propriety and wisdom of,” she answered. 
“Besides, I know all you can say already; and 
I don’t care to listen. I won’t listen.” 

“But, Amelia,” he said in a low, pained 
tone, “have you the right to dispose of my 
happiness as well as your own in such an 
arbitrary way? Your health is not a matter 
of to-day, merely, but of all our married life.” 

“Your happiness!” she repeated, looking 
at him wonderingly. “ How am I disposing of 
your happiness? Is it such a delight to you 
to talk about — my corsets?” 

“Oh, Amelia! you know it is unfair of you 
to say that.” 

“And isn’t it unfair of you to insist on 
talking on a subiect that is utterly distaste- 
ful to me? Surely, what I wear concerns no 
one but myself.” 

“Amelia, dear, isn’t a husband properly 
concerned in his wife’s health?” 

“You are not my husband, Arthur.” 

“I am engaged to you; we are to be hus- 
band and wife.” 

“Not until I am well, Arthur; so you see 
you are premature.” 

“And if I am sure that by going the way 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


173 


you are going you will not be well, have I 
not the right to warn you? Surely, our en- 
gagement does not mean that we are to wait 
forever for eaeh other?” 

■ “If you are impatient,” she cried proudly, 
“the engagement may be broken off when you 
please.” 

“Oh, Amelia!” 

“Well, I don’t mean to say unkind things, 
Arthur, but you make me when you argue 
with me in that way. I can’t help being 
sick.” 

“Yes, dear, you can. At least you might 
try my way.” 

“No, I will not; and you have no right to 
ask me to.” 

“I have a right, Amelia, and I can prove 
it to you if you will let me.” 

“I won’t hear a word about corsets.” 

“I will try to avoid that particular sub- 
ject, but I may have to say some things that 
will shock you. Please don’t mind if I do. 
You know that I love you, and that my 
respect for you is such that I would rather 
bite my tongue off than permit it to utter, 
unnecessarily, words you may object to.” 

“Oh, Arthur! I wish you had never turned 


174 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


reformer. I wish you would let me alone. I 
wish you would be like other men. Nobody 
else finds fault with me. Other folks think 
I have a good figure.” 

“I am so sorry,” he answered deprecat- 
ingly, his eyes resting sorrowfully on the 
pouting face. “I would not be even what I 
am if I had not stepped out of the beaten 
track. I can’t let you alone, because I love 
you and want you to be well and strong, so 
that you may enjoy life as I do. Besides, 
dear, has it ever occurred to you that it is 
your duty to be well and strong?” 

“I am sure no one wants to be more than 
I do, but I don’t see how it is my duty.” 

‘‘Surely, you have no right to marry unless 
you are well.” 

‘‘I don’t mean to do so. You know I have 
always said we must wait. But I don’t see 
what right has to do with it.” 

‘‘No woman has a right to be a wife and a 
mother who cannot give her children good 
health,” he said. 

The color flooded her face and she caught 
her breath. It was shocking to her to have 
Arthur say such a thing so plainly. He went 
hurriedly on: 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


175 


“Don’t be shocked at my words, Amelia, 
for it really pains me to say them ; but there 
is no other way of getting at what I must say 
to you. We expect to have children, do we 
not?” 

She did not answer him, but sank into a 
chair a little distance from him, and sat there 
with her head bent. Despairing of an answer 
from her, and feeling that it was his duty to 
make himself clearly understood, he went on 
again : 

“I could prove to you, if you would let 
me,” he said in a gentle, pleading voice, 
“that it is impossible for any woman dressing 
as you do to be the mother of strong children. 
Even if you were not sick it would be your 
duty to live right for the sake of your chil- 
dren. You do agree with me, I am sure.” 

She would not answer, but sat like a statue. 
It was as if she had realized his seriousness 
and had made up her mind to hear him out, 
no matter what he said. 

“Don’t you see, then, dear, that I have a 
right to talk to you about how you dress if 
anything in your dress will prevent our mak- 
ing a happy home, and no home can be happy 
vdthout children. I know it is not customary 


176 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


to talk of such things ; I know it is the habit 
to pretend that children have nothing to do 
with the reasons why people marry ; but 
nothing is so sure as that children are the 
result of a permanently happy marriage, and 
it is equally sure that it is criminal to marry 
without health,” 

He was silent so long that Amelia rose to 
her feet and faced him, her cheeks pale now. 

“Have you finished, Arthur?” she asked. 

“I want to hear your views, Amelia,” he 
answered ; “please don’t be angry; sit here by 
my side, won’t you, dear? Why can’t we talk 
of these things in love and tenderness,” he 
said, his tones agitated as he noted her white, 
drawn features. 

“ Love and tenderness ! ” she said, a touch 
of scorn in her tone. “It does not seem to 
me as if love and tenderness had much to do 
with the matter. From the way you have 
been talking, I should think marriage was a 
very commonplace, mechanical affair.” 

“Oh, no, Amelia, don’t say that!” 

“One must be well and strong,” she said, 
with curling lip. “ The notion that love is the 
reason for marrying is out of date and old- 
fashioned. Oh, no I people marry now with a 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 177 

doctor’s certificate of health in order that 
their ehildren may be well.” 

“You are angry, Amelia,” he said, gazing 
at her sadly and reproaehfiilly. 

“Do you know, I wonder, the plain mean- 
ing of what you have said to me?” 

“I do not know what interpretation you 
put upon my words; but I do know that I 
love you.” 

“I did not suppose that love demanded a 
certifieate of good health. I had always sup- 
posed that when the objeet of one’s love was 
sick, one grew more tender and loving.” 

“You are twisting my words, Amelia.” 

“Did you not say that a woman must be 
in good health to be a wife?” 

“I said she should be and I eannot retraet 
my words, because you are angry with me, 
Amelia.” 

“Then you meant that if I would not get 
well you would not make me your wife?” 

“I did not mean that, dear. I would 
gladly make you my wife to-morrow if you 
would consent, and would agree to try reason- 
able methods of recovering your health; but 
I would not dare take up with you the duties 
of parentage if you were not well and strong.” 


178 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Words! They mean the same thing. I 
must be well, and I must be well in your 
way ; and you reduce the sweet, holy union of 
two souls to the level of the animals.” 

“How can you say that, Amelia?” 

“Well, have you not as good as said that 
if I will not adopt your ideas you will not 
marry me?” 

“ That is a very harsh way of putting it, 
Amelia.” 

“Come, then! Will you marry me if I 
refuse to take your view of the matter?” 

“ Do not ask me such a question as that ! ” 

“Well, then, I do refuse. I shall wear cor- 
sets now, and as long as I please. I shall 
believe that the doctor knows more than you, 
and will follow his advice ; and now you may 
have your freedom. Here is the ring you 
gave me !” 

“ Amelia ! Amelia ! You will not do this ! ” 

“I have done it, and I abide by what I 
have done. I will not be controlled by you in 
matters that do not concern you. You are 
mad with theories.” 

“Do you no longer love me?” he asked 
sadly. 

“I love you far better than you love me. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


179 


but I will not retract what I have done. Our 
engagement is over. Here is your ring!” 

She placed her engagement ring on a table 
near her and swept out of the room. 


CHAPTER XIII 


Arthur went away from the Winsted house 
with hopeless despair written in every line of 
his mobile features, for he loved the little 
creature who had been closer to his heart than 
any other from their childhood. 

It was one thing to theorize on marriage 
and its duties, but quite another thing to be 
torn away and sent adrift from the object of 
one’s dearest love. 

Arthur could remember no such despair 
like that which filled him as he slowly left the 
house and walked away into the silence, the 
gloom and the loneliness of the night. 

It would have been easier, as it would have 
been pleasanter, to have remained in the 
parlor waiting for Amelia to return, and hear 
his plea for forgiveness. 

But such a plea must have been accom- 
panied by a retraction of what he had said; 
perhaps, even, by an admission that he had 
been wrong in saying it ; and, alas ! sorrowful 
as he was, he could not believe that he had 
been wrong. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


181 


He could wish that he had been more 
tactful, that he had somehow contrived to 
convey his idea of the truth to her without 
offense ; but as he went over the ground 
again and again, he still came back to the 
point that it was the most sacred duty of a 
would-be parent to be in good health. 

“I know,” he groaned aloud, “how brutal 
it must have seemed to poor little Amelia, 
when she understood that I made health a 
paramount condition of marriage. Oh, why 
did not someone teach her long ago that a 
marriage cannot be happy without children, 
and even though the begetting of children is 
an animal function, it is none the less sacred? 
Why are we taught to belittle that which is 
animal? As if that which is animal may not 
be charged with the noblest and most purify- 
ing sentiments ! ” 

It did not lessen his pain to know that 
Amelia still loved him so well that she was 
probably crying her heart out, and moaning 
for him to come back and be to her what he 
had been that first blessed week of her return 
from Europe, when there was no question 
between them but of love and adoration. 

It did not help him in the least to know 


182 


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that her arms would be wide open to him 
would he but return with a recantation on 
his lips. He knew he had only to go back 
and say: “I was wrong.” 

And his love for her, yes, and his pity for 
her in her illness, kept continually urging him 
to go back with those few easy words on his 
lips. He knew, too, that his mother and his 
sister Maude would assail him with reproaches 
and pleadings to be like other young men and 
put his strange notions aside. 

Recant ! Recant ! Conform ! Conform ! 
So the many have cried out to the few in all 
the ages of the world. Be different at your 
peril ! Be like us if you would be happy ! 

But there are some who cannot conform, 
who are unable to recant ; those who, having 
had the courage to think, have the still 
greater courage to endure for Truth’s sake. 

A man’s spirit may be more bruised by 
such a conflict as Arthur went through with 
himself that night than by all the trials that 
may be put upon him by others; and so it 
was that he crept into the house long after 
midnight, worn out. 

If he had met his sister Margie immediately 
after leaving Amelia, he would have told her 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


183 


all that had taken place, and that would have 
been good for him, for a loving, sympathetic 
woman can give a man such help as he can 
obtain nowhere else. 

When morning came, however, and the 
night before seemed to him a long, long way 
off, with its events already shadows in the 
dim past, it seemed to him that there was 
nothing to talk about. 

Margie, woman-like, had heard him come 
in, and had looked at her little bedside clock. 
“ Poor Arthur ! ” she had murmured, “he has 
had a hard time.” 

In the morning, eager to help him, she had 
put herself in his way, had thrown a sisterly 
arm about him, and had said : 

“What luck, Arthur, dear?” 

“The engagement has been broken.” 

“Ah! Arthur, I’m so sorry,” she said, 
tenderly. 

“Yes; by her. I was not tactful; she was 
angry. This is the end.” 

“She will think it over, and all will be 
right again, Arthur.” 

“I think not. I can’t talk about it, 
Margie. Help me when mother and Maude 
find out. They can never understand.” 


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That was all he meant to tell any of the 
family ; but Amelia said more. She told Mrs. 
Raymond and Maude practically everything, 
believing, perhaps, that somehow, through 
them, Arthur could be brought to her again, 
shorn of his strange notions. 

And Mrs. Raymond and Maude, filled 
with indignation and horror, assailed Arthur 
at once, as he had foreseen they would ; 
and he discovered that a man need be 
strong indeed to resist the importunities 
of those with whom he is in daily and 
hourly contact. 

Sorrowful looks, sighs and words were his 
lot day after day. His mother and sister 
made Amelia’s cause their own, and fought it 
with a pertinacity that had for its basis a 
sense of injury to the whole sex ; and in spite 
of her good will Margie was powerless to give 
him much help. 

It would be idle to repeat all that was 
said to poor Arthur, for there was necessarily 
much repetition ; but one conversation may be 
given as a sample of many. It was the first 
after the breaking of the engagement became 
known. 

“Oh! Arthur,’’ moaned Mrs. Raymond, 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


185 


“why have you broken your engagement with 
Amelia?” 

“It was not I, mother. She broke it.” 

“But why, Arthur?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it, mother. 
We had a difference of opinion on the sub- 
ject of the importance of health to a 
mother.” 

“Health!” cried Maude, fretftilly, as was 
natural with a girl suffering from the follies 
of unhygienic clothing; “one would suppose 
that a red skin and the ability to walk ten 
miles were of every importance, and love of 
none. I don’t want to marry any man who 
looks me over like a prize cow before asking 
me to be his wife.” 

“You have no more right to be a wife in 
your condition than Amelia has,” answered 
Arthur, a little sharply. 

“If all men held such dreadful notions, 
Arthur,” said his mother, severely, “there 
would be no marriages. Do you mean'to say 
that love is of no consequence in marriage? 
Are you sure that you are not confounding 
the baser emotion of passion with the pure 
and holy one of love?” 

“I don’t mean to, mother. But you, 


186 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


mother, don’t you think parents owe it to 
their children to give them good health if 
they can?” 

“Ah, Arthur, we never discussed such sub- 
jects in my day. Why, if your father had 
ventured to speak to me about such matters 
before we were married I — I — why, I wouldn’t 
have married him.” 

“Then you and Amelia are of the same 
mind,” answered Arthur, wearily, “for she 
refuses to be my wife on substantially the 
same ground.” 

“And quite right,” said Maude. “But I 
don’t see how you can help being ashamed of 
yourself when you think that you have de- 
serted her because she is not well — the very 
time when she needs your loving help the 
most.” 

“Arthur, dear,” said his mother, “why 
don’t you give up these singular notions of 
yours and do as your father did — let well 
enough alone? Go to Amelia and tell her you 
love her just as well as ever, and say you 
regret the unkind words you have spoken to 
her. Surely, you don’t want to make her 
unhappy?” 

“I don’t want a child of mine to have the 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


187 


right to tell me that it owes its ill health to 
me,” Arthur answered. 

“A well-taught child will never address 
such a reproach to its parent.” 

“But it would have the right,” he replied; 
“and a conscientious parent cannot rest con- 
tent with a silence which his knowledge of the 
truth makes an accusing one.” 

“ Don’t you believe in love at all?” Maude 
demanded. “Is marriage all on a physical 
basis with you?” 

“All marriages are founded on a physical 
basis, no matter how much spiritual love may 
be added,” he answered curtly. “It must be, 
no matter what sentimentalists may say.” 

“My boy, you do not mean what you 
say,” cried his mother. “Why, you would 
lower us to the level of the brutes. Do you 
not love Amelia?” 

“Better than anyone else in the world.” 

“Then why not smother your foolish pride, 
and go to her, asking her to forgive you for 
words that must seem hard and cruel to her?” 

“ Oh ! mother, why will you not understand 
me? It is no matter of pride, but of plainest 
duty. Amelia refuses to understand me just 
as you do. Like Maude, she would rather be 


188 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


fashionable than well. She clings to her cor- 
sets as if they were holy things, on which her 
immortal soul depended, when, if she would 
but think for a moment, she would see that 
there must be more of the spirit of evil than 
of good in a garment that tortures, maims 
and distorts the body, and renders her unfit 
for motherhood. And she is unfit for mother- 
hood; she admits it herself by refusing to 
marry me until she is well.” 

But Arthur might as well have argued 
the matter with one of his plaster casts for 
all the impression he made on either his sister 
or mother. They passed over any telling 
point as if it had not been made, and repeated 
their reproaches with ever fresh zest. 

If he had but known it, even little Amelia 
tired of their assertions continually repeated. 
It seemed as if they made her see the futility 
of her own feeble contest against the truth. 

Then she began to listen to Margie with 
more attention ; for Arthur’s sister, seeing his 
distress, and wishing to help him most effectu- 
ally, had ventured to broach the subject to 
Amelia. 

How much impression she made she did 
not know; but one day, less than a month 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


189 


subsequent to the interview between the lovers, 
she said to Herbert when they were alone 
together in their room : 

“I am making some headway with Amelia; 
I know I am. She is asking questions.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


Arthur, meanwhile, was absorbing himself 
in business, hoping to find in its absorption a 
relief from the ever-present distress of his 
trouble with Amelia. 

Mr. Raymond was especially pleased to 
have Arthur devote himself to the business, his 
own health being in such a state that he felt 
he had no secure hold on life, although he 
kept his own counsel in regard to that. 

The real estate business which Mr. Ray- 
mond had built up during many years of 
close and conscientious work was now in the 
most prosperous condition that it had ever 
been, so that the sick man had the comfort- 
ing assurance that now that Arthur thor- 
oughly understood it he need have none of 
that horror of death hanging over him which 
must haunt the man who has a family depend- 
ing on him and no means of supporting them. 

So Arthur, glad to relieve his father, and 
rejoiced to put all his energies into something 
so worthy, took over more and more of the 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


191 


work, until it seemed as if his powers must 
be inadequate to the labor he had to per- 
form. 

But even work was not sufficient to fill all 
of his time, or take all of his thoughts. The 
gymnasium, indeed, demanded a small portion 
of his spare time, but not as much now as 
formerly, when he was building up the magnif- 
icent body which he was now only concerned 
to maintain in its perfect condition. 

It was thinking of this that one day re- 
called to his mind the flattering words of the 
artist Bernardo. He had practically forgot- 
ten him until that moment, his trouble having 
so occupied his thoughts ; but when the sculp- 
tor did enter his mind, it was to rouse the 
wish to see him. 

Aside from Arthur’s pleasing recollections 
of the man, there was the incentive of the 
probability that there would be some inter- 
esting art works in his studio; and Arthur 
was passionately fond of the beautiful. 

That very afternoon, happening to be near 
the studio, he bent his steps toward it. It 
stood on a side street, just off Fifth avenue ; 
and Arthur saw at once that one of New 
York’s fine old mansions had been used. He 


192 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


discovered later that the baek yard and 
stable had been made into one huge studio, 
the former being covered with glass. 

His hand was on the door-bell to ring it, 
when the door was opened, and he stood faee 
to face with a young woman who was about 
to come out of the house; 

The sudden and unexpected encounter eon- 
fused both of them; they murmured a few 
words of explanation and apology; smiled 
because they had done so, and she was gone. 

An extraordinary sensation thrilled Arthur. 
His blood throbbed more swiftly. What soul- 
ful, honest, child-like eyes those were that had 
looked into his ! What lips that had parted 
over the white, regular teeth when the reluc- 
tant, shy smile had crept over her face ! What 
a glow of health beneath the snowy skin ! 

He looked after her, oblivious of the ser- 
vant who stood in the doorway. What a 
superb carriage! How gracefully, but with 
how little effort she moved ! 

“Did you want to see anyone, sir?” the 
negro servant said in a loud voice, a faint 
grin showing on his lips. 

“ Oh, I didn’t know — I didn’t see you. Mr. 
Bernardo! Is this his studio?” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


193 


“Yes, sir. Walk in, sir.” 

He went into the front parlor, now used as 
a reeeption room, evidently, and there he was 
presently joined by the sculptor, who showed 
great pleasure in meeting him again. 

“Forgive me,” said the artist, “for not 
shaking hands with you, but as you see, I am 
covered with clay.” He pointed to his apron 
and hands, which were stained with clay. 
“The moment I heard who you were I came 
in without stopping to clean up; but my 
work is over for the day, so waive ceremony 
and come back into the studio with me and 
look around while I wash off the dirt.” 

The studio was a vast apartment, at one 
end of which, under the full light of the glass 
roof, stood what seemed a massive group, 
covered with cloth, indicating to Arthur that 
it was the one Mr. Bernardo was at the time 
at work on. 

“My model has not been gone five min- 
utes,” the latter said, as he threw olf his 
apron. “If you had come a little sooner you 
might have met her; and well worth seeing 
she is, too.” 

Arthur felt himself flush, and was annoyed 
to think that he should do so. 

13 


194 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Perhaps I did see her,” he said, trying 
hard to make his tone one of indifference, 
and wondering all the while why the mere 
thought of the young woman he had met 
should start his blood throbbing again. “I 
met a young lady at the door just as I was 
coming in,” 

“Make you think of Aurora or Hebe, or 
some other favorite goddess?” asked the 
sculptor. 

“She was certainly a splendid specimen of 
womanhood,” Arthur answered, studying a 
statue with a critical air without seeing it at 
all. 

“That must have been she. I’ll show you 
my study of her in a few minutes. A very 
fine young woman ! ” 

He spoke in a tone of praise, but with a 
calmness Arthur found himself half resenting. 

“Perhaps she won’t like me to see the 
study,” he said, trying to be fair to the young 
lady, but hoping the sculptor would find an 
argument with which to push aside his 
scruples. 

“I wouldn’t show it to everybody. No, 
she won’t mind in this case. I’ve spoken to 
her about you and my hopes, you know” — 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


195 


he laughed genially — “and she said I might 
let you see the group, and see her, too, if I 
thought best. Of course, I don’t mean posing; 
you understand that, of course. That’s a 
fine thing you’re looking at now. It was 
done by a friend of mine. That one over 
there is a copy of Donatello’s — but of course 
you know it without my telling you.” 

Talking gaily, and drawing from Arthur 
his opinions on this and that piece of sculp- 
ture, he led him around the studio. 

And Arthur tried his best to take an in- 
terest in everything ; though all the while his 
eyes kept wandering wistfully to the cloth- 
covered group at the end of the studio. 

But it was not until he had shown Arthur 
everything else that the sculptor approached 
the large group, saying : 

“After all, my heart is nowhere but here, 
now. I think this will be my masterpiece, 
Mr. Raymond. That is why I begged you so 
hard to pose for me. Perhaps when you have 
seen it you will have pity on” — ^he inteirupted 
himself to smile at Arthur. 

“I am afraid not,” said the latter; but if 
the sculptor was noting he must have been 
aware that Arthur was not as firm and vig- 


196 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


orous in his refusal as he had previously 
been. 

Mr. Bernardo stood with the cloth in his 
hand, delaying withdrawing it while he talked 
to Arthur. 

“You will notice that this group contains 
four figures, a man, a woman and two chil- 
dren. I have done nothing excepting on the 
woman. I am sure you will admit that the 
female figure is magnificent. It is only slightly 
draped.” 

He drew the cloth away with an almost 
loving slowness of movement, and Arthur 
found himself catching his breath in the rapt 
excitement of the moment. It was to him 
rather as if the model herself were being re- 
vealed to him, and he gazed upon the figure 
before him with the deepest reverence. 

He had never seen anything so beautiful 
before; and the longer he looked the more it 
seemed to him that he saw before him a 
living, breathing body. 

“Well?” said the artist in a low tone. 

“Exquisite,” was all Arthur could say. 

It was the form of a fiilly developed woman 
at the period of her greatest beauty. Some 
soft, clinging draperies hung from one shoulder 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


197 


and were wound gracefully around her waist 
and hips. She was pointing upward with the 
finger of her right hand, and the poise of 
her head gave her an appearance of proud 
dignity. 

There was a harmony of contour in every 
curve of the figure. The arms were slightly 
larger than are seen in the average woman, 
but they were exquisitely rounded and pro- 
portioned. The hands were not small, but 
they were almost perfect in shape. 

One side of the bust was uncovered. It 
showed the full, well-rounded outlines that 
come with firm flesh and strong muscles. The 
waist curved inward, and was a trifle small 
for a figure of this size. Down the center of 
the back of the figure, beginning at the nape 
of the neck, was a deep furrow, and at each 
side there were round mounds of white flesh, 
formed by the firm and beautiful muscles. 
The hips swelled out from the waist with an 
almost matronly curve, so large were they, 
although every line was perfect. The limbs 
were large and finely proportioned, the ankles 
and knees being small, while the swell at the 
calves and thighs was just enough to give the 
right taper for perfect contour. 


198 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


Arthur was silent so long that the sculptor 
turned his eyes on him and studied him, 
realizing with delight that he was fairly en- 
tranced. 

“You will pose?” he said at length. “You 
will do me this favor?” 

“It is the most beautiful thing I ever 
saw,” Arthur breathed. “It would be an 
honor to represent the male type by the side 
of such a magnificent specimen of woman- 
hood.” 

“Say you will pose, then,” pleaded Ber- 
nardo. “It was in order that I might win 
your consent that I prevailed on Miss Bertram 
to at once permit you to see this and to 
know her.” 

“Miss Bertram!” murmured Arthur. 

“Miss Helen Bertram. You will pose, Mr. 
Raymond?” 

“I should see her in that case?” he asked 
in a low tone. 

“If you will come to-morrow at three 
o’clock. She will be through by that time and 
I can present you; but, Mr. Raymond,” he 
added, with dignified seriousness, “she is a 
lady in the finest sense of the word; a noble 
woman.” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


199 


“If she were not I would rather never see 
her again.” 

“Forgive me the warning!” 

“Thank you, rather.” 

When Arthur went home that evening he 
forgot to cast his usual wistful glance at the 
windows of the Winsted house; and Amelia, 
hidden behind the lace curtains, uttered a 
little cry and a surprised sob. It was the 
first time that had happened since the day of 
their broken engagement. 


CHAPTER XV 


When Arthur left the breakfast table, the 
morning following his interview with Mr. 
Bernardo, he was followed by his sister 
Margie, who drew him into her room when 
they reached it. 

“Arthur, dear,” she exclaimed, as soon as 
she had closed the door, “I have something 
to tell you which I am sure will please you.” 

He took her by the arm and led her to a 
chair by the window, with so much of his old 
cheerfulness of manner that she looked at him 
wonderingly and demanded : 

“Has Herbert told you?” 

“He hasn’t told me anything particularly 
pleasant lately.” 

“Well,” said Margie, “I haven’t seen you 
looking so cheerful for a long time, and if 
Herbert hasn’t told you I don’t see how— 
You haven’t been talking with Amelia, have 
you?” she demanded suddenly. 

“No,” answered Arthur, with sudden se- 
riousness, “I have not.” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


201 


“Well, I have,” cried Margie, with a return 
of enthusiasm as she was reassured as to her 
secret. “ Sit down there, and I’ll tell you some- 
thing to make you happy.” 

It was rather a startled than a happy 
expression that leaped into Arthur’s eyes at 
his sister’s words, and he sat down and looked 
out of the window in such a way as to pre- 
vent her from seeing his full face. 

He could not have told himself, if he had 
tried, why he was embarrassed and why he 
should wish to hide his embarrassment from 
his sister ; but he was perfectly conscious of a 
singular sense of disturbance within him. 

“I haven’t said anything about it before,” 
Margie went on, “because I didn’t feel that 
there was anything definite to speak of, but 
now there is. What would you say if I told 
you that Amelia wore no corsets yesterday?” 

“No corsets!” murmured Arthur, with a 
sudden sense of depression, instead of the joy 
he felt he should have experienced. 

“No corsets,” cried Margie, triumphantly. 
“And what is more, she says she doesn’t 
mean to wear them again.” 

“No?” he said, in a low tone, his eyes still 
fixed in a stare out of the window. 


202 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Doesn’t that make you happy?” she de- 
manded, joyously. 

“Oh, yes.” 

“I didn’t go to her, though I wanted to 
from the very first,” she went on, eagerly. 
“She eame to me. The best of it is that it 
was mother and Maude who drove her to 
me by their eondemnation of you. She came 
frankly and told me she wanted to hear my 
side.” 

“If she had only come to me!” Arthur 
said in a low tone ; his thoughts busy all the 
while with the wonder that he did not feel 
more enthusiasm. 

“Now, don’t be a simpleton, Arthur,” 
cried Margie, her affectionate tone robbing 
her words of any unpleasantness; “you know 
she couldn’t very well do that after you’d 
had a quarrel over the matter. I think she 
has shown not only very nice feeling, but a 
great deal more courage and honesty than 
many girls under the same circumstances. It 
won’t hurt you to make the first overtures. 
You’re not going to be obstinate about it, 
are you, Arthur?” 

“ Obstinate about what?” he asked, slowly. 

“Oh, well, I know it’s not my business. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


203 


Arthur ; and I don’t mean to meddle. Let me 
tell you first all about what has happened. 
Don’t you want me to?” 

“ Certainly. Oh, yes ! ” 

“Well, she eame to me— oh, it must be two 
weeks ago — and asked me to tell her how I 
made myself so strong, and if I really was as 
well as I looked, and did I aetually have no 
aehes and pains inside of me.” 

“Poor little Amelia!” 

“Dear little thing! She is an honest little 
creature and has lots more sense than any 
one would suppose who only knew her from 
her pretty, petulant ways; hasn’t she?” 

“Yes, indeed.” 

“We talked it all over. I told her all I 
knew and urged her to try the natural meth- 
ods first. Maude all the time was urging her 
to try an operation, as the doctor advised.” 

“I think he’s as much knave as fool,” 
cried Arthur. 

“Maybe he is. Anyhow, Amelia has been 
exercising under my instruction — of course, 
Herbert told me just what to do — and has 
been feeling so much better that yesterday she 
discarded corsets for good and all, she is so 
convinced of the benefit of our way.” 


204 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“She is sure to get well, then,” Arthur 
said, in a low tone. 

“Maude doesn’t know it yet,” Margie 
laughed. “How outraged she will be when 
she does. But oh, Arthur!” with a sudden 
change to seriousness, “did you know that 
Maude was going to undergo an operation?” 

“No,” cried he, starting to his feet. 

“Yes, she is; it was decided yesterday. 
She doesn’t wish you or Herbert to know 
anything about it for fear you will make a 
fuss. I have said everything I could against 
it.” 

“I’ll speak to her now,” Arthur said, mov- 
ing toward the door, perhaps not realizing, 
himself, his relief at being able to end the 
conversation about Amelia. 

But Margie had no notion of permitting 
the subject of Amelia to be so summarily 
dismissed; for she had worked eagerly with 
their little neighbor with the one end in view 
of bringing the two lovers together once more. 

“But, Arthur!” she cried, “you must 
know more about Amelia. She and I have 
had ever so many talks, and I know that 
she means to give up all her old foolish 
notions. She is quite converted to the belief 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


205 


that you were quite right in taking the stand 
you did about her health and its relation to 
motherhood.” 

She paused and looked inquiringly at Ar- 
thur. He looked studiously at the floor, 
tracing the pattern of the rug with the toe 
of his shoe. 

“Doesn’t it make you happy to hear 
that?” she demanded, suddenly. 

“Surely it does.” 

“And you won’t be so mean as to hold 
out for an apology or anything of that sort 
from her, will you?” 

“I hope she won’t think of such a thing,” 
he answered, hesitatingly. 

“She has been so womanly and so sensi- 
ble,” said Margie. “As soon as she had 
made up her mind to look into the matter 
she did it with a will, putting all prejudice 
away. And I am sure she expected to please 
you by doing so, Arthur. Not that she would 
have done it for that alone, of course.” 

“No, I suppose not,” Arthur said, lamely; 
so lamely that Margie cried out : 

“What is the matter, Arthur? Why are 
you not pleased with what I have told you? 
Are you angry with me for meddling?” 


206 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Oh, no, Margie! You have done what 
I should have expected you to do. And I 
am glad that Amelia means to resort to the 
natural method of cure for her ailments ; 
very glad.” 

“But you don’t seem glad — not glad in 
the way I would have supposed. It isn’t 
because you are too proud to make the first 
overtures for a reconciliation, is it?” 

“Oh, no Margie.” 

“There wasn’t anything else in your quarrel 
excepting about her health, was there?” 

“There was hardly a quarrel, Margie,” he 
aid evasively. 

“Well, won’t you go in to see her this 
morning before you go down to the office? 
She is such a dear little thing, Arthur I and I 
know it will encourage her to know that she 
is back in her old place in your heart. Will 
you go in? I know I have no right to 
urge you, Arthur dear, but when I know 
your happiness is at stake, how can I help 
saying more than strict propriety sanc- 
tions?” 

“I won’t go this morning, Margie. I want 
time to think it over.” 

“Oh, Arthur!” Margie cried, going close 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


207 


to him, a startled look in her eyes; “don’t 
you love her any more?” 

“Don’t question me, Margie,” he answered, 
in a troubled tone. 

“But, Arthur,” she said, “I’ve watched 
you night and morning ever since the trouble, 
and I’ve felt so sorry to see how wistfully 
you’ve looked up at her house as you passed 
it. You have looked at it, haven’t you?” 

“Yes, I have.” 

“And, Arthur, you ought to know that 
Amelia has stood there behind the curtains 
just to see you go — ” 

“Don’t, Margie! don’t!” he interrupted, a 
frown of pain furrowing his brow; “you 
mustn’t tell me any more. I don’t know 
what is the matter— I mean I am not sure; 
I don’t understand myself. I must take time 
to think. Forgive me, Margie, dear ! I know 
how strange this must seem to you, but it 
is just as strange to me. If you had told me 
yesterday, perhaps — ” He stopped suddenly, 
his own words bringing up before him the 
image of that perfect woman he had seen yes- 
terday, whom he was to see again to-day if 
he would. And, as if a door had suddenly 
been thrown open on the truth, he understood 


208 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


why he had not rejoiced in the possibility of 
winning Amelia back. 

“ Yesterday ! ” repeated Margie, shaking her 
head sorrowfully. “ Oh, Arthur ! is there some 
one else?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Are you engaged to some one else? Have 
you allowed your anger to — ” 

“No, Margie, no. I have not been angry 
with Amelia ; I am not angry now. I am not 
engaged to any one, nor likely to be. I have 
not spoken twenty words to any woman 
since our engagement was broken. Now, 
don’t question me any more, for I don’t want 
to answer.” 

“Oh, Arthur,” sighed his sister; “and 
suppose Amelia loses interest in getting 
well?” 

“I hope she won’t do that, Margie. Why 
should she? She isn’t trying to get well for 
my sake, but for her own.” 

“I am sure she will not care for health 
unless she has you, too.” 

“Would that be reasonable?” he asked, 
in a pained tone. 

“When one loves, one does not expect to 
be reasonable,” Margie answered, in an of- 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


209 


fended tone. “The time was, Arthur, when 
you did not set so much store by reasonable- 
ness. I am afraid I don’t understand you. 
I was sure you loved Amelia or I would not 
have taken the interest I have in trying to 
bring about a reconciliation.” 

It seemed to Arthur that if he had chosen 
he could have said something to the point on 
the subject of being saved from his friends; 
but he knew that Margie had been disinter- 
ested, and he loved her too well to hurt her 
feelings. Besides, he was not prepared to say 
anything definite; he was not sure whether 
he did or did not love Amelia. 

Indeed, he knew that he did love her, per- 
haps as much as ever he had, but it seemed to 
him that he now had quite a different idea 
of what the love of a man for a woman 
might be. 

But he was sure of nothing excepting that 
a new element, hitherto undreamed of, had 
entered his life, putting all his thoughts and 
ideas in confusion. He turned to his sister and 
took her two hands in his. 

“Margie, dear,” he said, “please don’t be 
offended with me. I want to do just what is 
right and best, and surely it is not my fault 


210 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


if I don’t see my way clearly. I am grateful 
to you for all your loving anxiety to help 
me. I can’t tell you now what is troubling 
me, but when my mind is made up I will come 
to you. You are the best friend I have ; and 
I don’t believe any other fellow ever had a 
better sister than I have.” 

The ready tears filled Margie’s eyes as she 
listened ; and when Arthur had bent over and 
kissed her, she said affectionately : 

“All right, Arthur! I’ll trust you to do 
what you think right. Forget my petulance 
and go talk to them downstairs before father 
goes away. I don’t believe he half likes the 
idea of the operation.” 

Glad to escape any further discussion of 
his relations with Amelia, Arthur hastened 
from the room and went back to the dining- 
room, passing Herbert on the stairs, and be- 
ing thus assured of finding only his father, 
mother and sister there. 

With his brain all in a turmoil with the 
thoughts aroused by his talk with Margie, 
he would have been glad to avoid such a talk 
as was before him if possible; but as he did 
not know how soon the operation might 
take place, he felt that he must not delay; 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


211 


for to him an operation under the circum- 
stances was nothing less than a crime. 

They were evidently through breakfast 
when he entered the room, and it was 
equally evident that his coming interrupted 
a conversation which probably had been 
started on the departure of Herbert from 
the room. 

“I’m afraid I’m in the way,” he said, not- 
ing their embarrassed silence, “but I want 
to say something before I go down to the 
office. I hope you won’t think I’m intrusive, 
Maudie; but I want to say something about 
your operation.” 

“Margie has told you,” she cried, flushing 
angrily. “She had no right to do that. 
Well, it doesn’t make any difference, and you 
may as well save your breath, for nothing 
you can say will alter my determination.” 

“Don’t be so positive, Maude,” her father 
said; “I’d like to have Arthur’s opinion, 
now that he knows about it.” 

“Well, I don’t mind his giving his opinion,” 
said Mrs, Raymond, “but I must say I don’t 
see how he can know anything about such a 
matter. In my time such a thing as a boy 
having any opinion on such a subject was un- 


212 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


heard of. I suppose it is all a part of the 
new method.” 

“Now, mother,” said Arthur, going around 
to her ehair and lovingly caressing her, “you 
mustn’t take sides against me right away. 
Besides, I am not going to try to make 
Maudie do anything against her reason.” 

“I should hope not,” was Maude’s un- 
compromising ejaculation. 

“Somehow,” said Mr. Raymond, “I don’t 
altogether like the idea of an operation my- 
self. It seems as if it were a thing that once 
done could never be undone.” 

He spoke slowly and almost wearily; and 
as Arthur looked anxiously at his face it 
seemed to him that he had never seen it so 
drawn and haggard; but it was no time to 
dwell on that, for Maude had spoken up 
quickly : 

“Of course it can never be undone; that’s 
why it is done.” 

“That would be a fine thing,” said Arfhur, 
“if the operation were entirely successful; 
but if a failure, then what?” 

“Well,” retorted poor Maude irritably, 
“if you are a prophet and can see into the 
future, tell me what the result will be; but if 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


213 


you are not— and I never heard that you 
were — ^why do you set up your judgment 
against that of a doctor who has spent his 
life in gaining the knowledge you presume to 
despise. For my part, I refuse to discuss the 
matter with you. I should think you had had 
enough of interfering.” 

‘ ‘ Maudie ! Maudie ! ’ ’ murmured the mother, 
whose heart went out to Arthur in the hour 
of his trouble. 

“Well, I don’t mean to say unkind things, 
mother, but Arthur is unreasonable in pre- 
tending to know better than the doctor. 
Just because he became well at the time he 
began to exercise, he thinks he cured himself, 
forgetting all the skill and the medicine of the 
doctor.” 

“I shall never forget his medicine,” said 
Arthur. 

“Maudie is right about that,” Mrs. Ray- 
mond said. “I don’t see how you can have 
the courage to set up your opinion against 
a doctor’s.” 

“I suppose you have some better reason 
for doing so, Arthur,” interposed his father, 
“than simply because your return to health 
and your giving up the doctor were coincident. 


214 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Yes, I have. In the first place I have 
looked somewhat into the history of medi- 
cine, and I have learned that from the 
earliest times the doctors have persecuted 
those who tried to drag the practice of 
medicine out of the ruts into which it had 
fallen.” 

“That is an easy charge to bring against 
any system, my son,” Mr. Raymond said, 
gravely; “but conservatism is a good thing, 
notwithstanding.” 

“I understand that, father. It would be 
unwise to change at the word of every hare- 
brained fellow who came along with a theory ; 
but at least the men whose pawns are life and 
death should not play their game recklessly, 
refusing to listen to the remonstrances of 
their victims— patients they call them. Why, 
do you know the first victim to the witch- 
craft delusion in this country was a sacri- 
fice offered to the conservatism of the doc- 
tors?” 

“I am afraid you are willing to distort 
the facts in seeking arguments against medical 
men,” said Mr. Raymond, deprecatingly. 

“No, indeed ; it’s an historical fact. It was 
in the year 1648, and the poor woman was 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


215 


Margaret Jones, of Charlestown, Massachu- 
setts. The doctors in those days believed 
in bleeding their patients, giving them violent 
purges and emetics; Margaret Jones had the 
sensible notion that such measures weakened 
and injured sick people. She gave herb tonics 
and simple prescriptions and her patients got 
well where those of the learned doctors died; 
so the doctors brought a charge of witchcraft 
against her, and she was hanged. Governor 
Winthrop of Massachusetts is the authority 
for that story.” 

“Anything might have happened two hun- 
dred and fifty years ago,” said Maude, scom- 
fally. 

“Well, the story shows what the attitude 
of the doctors was then; and that doctors 
haven’t changed much since. Why, they went 
on with their bleeding and purging for one 
hundred and fifty years longer, refusing to 
learn anything, until at last they killed the 
best man in the world at that time with their 
wretched conservatism, which was only an- 
other name for hide-bound ignorance.” 

“Arthur, Arthur! don’t be violent.” 

“I don’t mean to be, father. And I tell 
only the truth. It is admitted now that 


216 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


Washington might well have lived through 
the bad cold he had but for the way the doc- 
tors bled and purged and vomited and blis- 
tered and poulticed him. He was in full vigor 
except for a cold he had taken. Then the doc- 
tors got at him in the good old way, sancti- 
fied by use, and bled him three times, taking 
a quart of blood from him the last time. 
Think of that!” 

“It probably isn’t true,” said Maude. 

“But it is a matter of record,” answered 
Arthur. “But the bleeding was only a part 
of their scientific treatment. They gave him 
great doses of calomel to purge him, tartar 
emetic to vomit him, blisters to scarify him, 
and poultices to finish him, I suppose. And 
just for a cold from which he would have 
recovered in a day or two if he had re- 
frained from food and had drunk freely of 
water.” 

“To-day isn’t a hundred years ago,” said 
his mother; “and it would be singular if the 
doctors hadn’t learned something.” 

“Of course they have learned something; 
but the chief of their learning is to despise the 
common-sense of a layman. What use have 
they for natural and easy methods when they 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


217 


live for their mysterious Latin and poor writ- 
ing?” 

“Well, well ! ” said Mr. Raymond, “of course 
there is something in what you say ; but how 
does all this affect Maude’s case? Do you 
pretend that you can cure her?” 

“I can’t, father; nor do I pretend to; but 
I do say that when a rational and absolutely 
harmless system of cure is offered, it should 
be tried before resorting to the knife. If my 
way fails, it will be time then to think of the 
surgeon.” 

“What do you say, Maude?” inquired her 
father. 

“I say no; I say I am sick of Arthur’s 
preaching. I know what will be demanded of 
me; I must take off my corsets, I must eat 
two meals a day — perhaps they’ll give me 
only one— I must drink water just when I 
don’t want it — ^between meals. I must stop 
eating meat, and, for all I know, eat raw 
food. Oh ! it is enough to make one tired of 
life only to hear them. Look at Margie ! She 
eats two meals a day, goes without corsets, 
has no style at all and — Oh, I just won’t listen 
to a word more.” 

“Maudie, dear,” said Arthur, affectionately, 


218 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“I know it must seem to you that we are 
a lot of cranks; and I admit that we are 
enthusiastic and talk more about the matter 
than must be quite agreeable ; but I am think- 
ing only of your good. It isn’t to have my 
own way that I urge this; I wish you would 
believe that.” 

“Well, I don’t mean to be cross, Arthur, 
and I am sorry if I have said anything to 
hurt your feelings, but I would rather trust 
the doctor and I will.” 

“But Margie is well and strong, Maudie. 
See what color she has ! how bright and clear 
her eyes are ! how vigorously she walks ! 
And mother will admit that she never knew a 
woman get well so soon after the birth of her 
baby. And Margie was no stronger as a girl 
than Maude; was she, mother?” 

“No-o.” 

“I don’t care! I don’t care! I won’t be 
tormented any more. I have a right to de- 
cide for myself; and I will not make myself 
hideous to please anybody,” cried Maude, 
starting to her feet and at the same time 
bursting into tears. “ One would think oper- 
ations were always failures, instead of suc- 
cesses.” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 219 

“Successes for the surgeons,” murmured 
Arthur, sorrowfully. 

“ Well, say no more, my son ; Maude must 
decide. She has heard what you have to say, 
and she makes her choice.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


And so ended Arthur’s effort to save his 
sister from the hands of the surgeon. He tried 
to discuss the subject with his father and 
mother, but they only assured him that 
Maude was determined, and that nothing but 
hard feeling could come of his insistence. 

Saddened by this painful discussion, sad- 
dened also by thoughts of his new attitude 
toward Amelia just at a time when it was 
certain that he had only to go to her to 
renew his old, pleasant relations with her, 
and under the very best auspices, Arthur put 
on his hat for his walk down to the office. 

But as he did so a sudden thought flashed 
into his brain and caused him to start. For 
a month he had passed the house next door, 
looking each morning and again each night 
at the windows of the hospitable parlor, 
seeking some sign from the little creature 
who was mistress there. 

Now he knew that she had seen him go by, 
had watched him as his eyes had scanned 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


221 


the windows ; he knew that she would be there 
this morning, that she had been there last 
night. And now he recalled that for the first 
time he had last night failed to look up. 

Should he now, knowing that she hid 
behind the curtains with a wistful heart, 
look up? Dared he do so, knowing that 
another, an utter stranger to him too, had 
the power to thrill him as Amelia never had 
done? 

And what was the meaning of this power 
over his senses of this beautiful stranger? 
Was it love? How could it be love when 
he did not dare know her? Was it passion? 
Not if passion were a degrading emotion, 
for whatever it was that stirred and thrilled 
him, even to think of her exalted him. 

Suddenly he made up his mind and strode 
from the house. He passed the windows 
next door, his eyes fixed steadfastly straight 
before him. 

“ He did not look up ! He no longer loves 
her ! ” Margie murmured, watching him from 
her room. 

“Why didn’t he look up?” wailed little 
Amelia from her covert behind the curtain. 

Why, indeed? It was still as much a rid- 


222 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


die to him as to her. He felt that he still 
loved her as much as ever; there was no 
diminution in his interest in her ; he was glad 
she had turned to natural methods for the 
cure of her ailments; he hoped she would 
become as strong and as beautiful as it was 
possible to be. 

But when he thought of Helen Bertram 
his blood quickened; when he thought of 
Amelia it was only with affectionate concern. 

He thought much of Amelia during the first 
ten minutes of his walk ; then gradually less 
and less of her and more and more of Helen, 
whom he was to meet again that afternoon. 

He recalled with delight the tones of her 
full, rich voice; the droop of the long, heavy 
lashes on the rounded cheek, the sweeping 
curves of her magnificent figure ; the assured, 
elastic step; the superb carriage. 

The walk had never seemed so short to him 
as on that morning. His head was very 
near the clouds. As he passed along Broad- 
way there came a jarring note into the har- 
mony of his delightful imaginings, for as he 
crossed Thirtieth street a chance glance to- 
ward Sixth avenue showed him Charles Mor- 
gan engaged in earnest conversation with 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 223 

some one whose baek was turned toward 
Arthur. 

His fued with Morgan, if it could be called 
such, had ended, so far as he was concerned, 
with the struggle at the gymnasium for the 
championship; but there was something in 
the man that antagonized him. 

He passed on with accelerated step, his 
pleasant thoughts dissipated by the sight 
of his enemy. Then he became conscious of a 
peculiar operation of his brain ; he was dwell- 
ing on a sense of familiarity in the back of 
the person he had seen talking with Morgan. 

He dismissed the problem and came back 
to it again, trying to connect the back with 
any person known to him, but always in vain. 
He reached the office with his thoughts still 
on the irritating problem. 

It seemed to him that the bookkeeper 
looked at him in an odd way, but he dis- 
missed the thought at once ; though at a later 
day he recalled the circumstance, and had 
reason to wish he had given more heed to it 
at the time. 

There was so much work for him to do, 
however^ that he was soon oblivious of every- 
thing else, and so remained for hour after 


224 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


hour; for he had thoroughly cultivated the 
faculty of completely absorbing himself in the 
task he had to do. 

It is possible that during all those hours 
there was a sub-consciousness of the gracious 
personality he was to know better when his 
work was done, but, if so, it rather helped 
than hindered his efficiency; for all that he 
did was characterized by a buoyancy that 
had been lacking in him for a month past. 

Then, at last, the moment came for him 
to set out for the studio. He freshened him- 
self with a dash of cold water on his face, 
and left the office with a beating heart, and 
with such a joyous expression shining in his 
eyes that one of the clerks said to the other : 

• “I’ll bet he’s landed a good commission 
to-day.” 

But the largest sum of money ever made 
never filled the soul of a money-getter with 
the exultation that thrilled Arthur as he left 
the office and its cares and strode away 
toward the studio of the sculptor. 

It was little wonder that as he passed 
along the street both men and women turned 
to have a second look at him, as if they 
found in him the embodiment of that exulta- 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


225 


tion in mere living wliicli every human being 
craves. 

But at the door of the studio, Arthur’s 
exultation in the mere fact of living gave way 
to a timidity quite new in his experience. 
It struck him that he was going to meet 
Helen Bertram with a joy in which she prob- 
ably was quite a stranger. For anything he 
knew she might regard him with even less 
than indifference. 

So it was in a very subdued condition of 
mind that he entered the reception room to 
wait for the coming of Mr. Bernardo. 

He tried to allay his growing nervousness 
by looking at the pictures that hung on the 
walls, but in spite of anything he could do 
his thoughts would dwell on Helen Bertram. 

Perhaps, having seen him the previous day, 
she had decided not to meet him. What could 
be more natural, in fact, than that she should 
not care to meet him? Why should she care 
to? One so beautiful would probably be so 
sought after by men that she would be in- 
different to him. Yes, of course, he must pre- 
pare himself to have the sculptor come in 
and say Miss Bertram had already gone home. 

He had never in his life been so sure that 
IS 


226 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


he was a very foolish young man. Here 
he had engaged himself to pose for Mr. Ber- 
nardo with no other object in the world but 
to meet Miss Bertram — he was painfully con- 
scious of that fact at that particular moment 
— and now he realized that the probabilities 
were that she would not care to meet him. 

“No,” he murmured to himself, “I don’t 
see why she should care to meet me; but” 
—and he made a sudden gesture of determina- 
tion — “I want to meet her; and meet her I 
will.” 

At this moment the sound of a footfall 
reached his ear, and he almost stopped breath- 
ing in order that he might determine whether 
or not two persons were approaching. 

He was sure but one person was coming, 
and his heart sank ; then he was sure he heard 
the swish of a skirt ; but, of course, that was 
only the big apron the sculptor wore. 

He knew better all the time, but fortified 
himself against disappointment by offering 
himself explanations. It was a woman’s 
skirt he heard rustle ; then, of course, it could 
not be Miss Bertram, for she would surely 
be accompanied by Mr. Bernardo. 

He kept his back to the door even after 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


227 


the lady had entered the room, determined 
not to allow himself a delusive hope ; although 
he was fairly quivering with the hope and the 
actual belief that Helen Bertram stood in 
the doorway. 

“Is this Mr. Raymond?” 

He was face about and half-way across the 
room in an instant. It was the voice whose 
tones were still ringing in his memory. It 
was Helen Bertram who stood there smiling 
frankly at him. 

“Ye — yes,” he stammered. “And you are 
Miss” — he swallowed a little lump in his throat 
—“Miss Bertram.” 

She laughed softly and held out her hand 
with a charming absence of conventional re- 
serve. 

It seemed to Arthur he had never listened 
to such music as the low laugh that came 
rippling through the parted, red lips. As for 
the hand he grasped in his, the touch of it 
sent such a thrill through him that he dared 
not hold it. 

“This is a very informal way of becoming 
acquainted, Mr. Raymond,” she said, gaily, 
“but it is all Mr. Bernardo’s fault. He would 
have business of extreme importance to take 


228 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


him suddenly away, so that I could not re- 
fuse to present myself to you, and at the same 
time make his apologies and be sure that you 
did not escape him.” 

Her manner was so simple, her speech so 
frank, and she bore herself with such a gra- 
cious dignity, that Arthur felt himself put 
instantly at his ease at the same time that 
hopelessness of ever winning so peerless a 
creature overwhelmed him. 

For that he wished to win her he knew 
positively. He knew as well as if he had 
studied the matter for ten years that he was 
in the presence of the woman who embodied 
for him the perfection of her sex and the com- 
' plement of his own individuality. 

“So far from accepting Mr. Bernardo’s 
apologies,” he found himself saying with an 
eagerness he tried in vain to wholly suppress, 
“I feel that I owe him my gratitude. I 
wanted to meet you again when we met at 
the doorway; and after I had seen — ” He 
stopped in confusion, wondering what she 
would think of a so tactless a fellow as he 
was showing himself. “Pardon me!” he ex- 
claimed, after a moment’s pause, and with 
an ingenuous frankness that dissipated at 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


229 


once the expression of hauteur that had crept 
into her eyes at his evident reference to her 
effigy in the group in the studio ; “ and please 
do not misunderstand me. Beauty of form 
is so impersonal to me that I had no idea of 
paying you a compliment.” 

“I am glad of that,” she answered, her 
beautiful eyes glowing with earnestness; “for 
I abhor pretty speeches in just about the same 
degree that I love honesty and frankness.” 

“But,” cried Arthur, so ingenuously that 
Helen could not help smiling, “if I allow 
myself to be honest and frank with you, I 
cannot help making pretty speeches.” 

“Well,” she laughed, “I am sure I know 
a cure for your trouble. You want to tell 
me how beautifol you think me, and Mr. 
Bernardo that you really know what I shall 
not mind at all since I know from beauty of 
form is; so say whatever you please; only 
remember that I shall watch you for errors 
and shall know how to distinguish flattery 
, from truth.” 

“I can only say I have no wish to flatter 
you,” Arthur answered; “but it is true that 
I could not help being impressed by the mag- 
nificence of your form because so few women 


230 A STRENUOUS LOVER 

pay any attention whatever to their phys- 
ical development, but give all their thoughts 
to the false and inartistic semblance which 
the dressmaker prescribes,” 

” That is only because women are ignorant 
as yet, and men are not much wiser than 
they, Mr. Raymond. We are speaking frankly 
and without foolish vanity, so that I may 
bring it home to you as you have to me. 
Mr. Bernardo tells me, and I have no diffi- 
culty in believing him, that you are the most 
perfectly developed man he has ever seen; 
but that a few years ago you were a physical 
wreck,” 

“ That is absolutely true ; I was thought to 
be dying.” 

“And why did you develop your body?” 

Arthur flushed and hesitated; then spoke 
frankly : 

“I don’t now that I am altogether proud 
of the reason that animated me. Miss Bertram, 
but I suppose you want the truth. I had 
been grossly insulted by a man who was , 
greatly my superior in physical strength, 
and I wished to conquer him.” 

“Charles Morgan?” she gasped, involun- 
tarily. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


231 


“Yes. How did you guess? Do you know 
him?” he demanded, in a startled tone. 

“ I have heard of him ; and — and you know 
it was with him you had the contest.” 

“Oh, yes, of course. I am glad you don’t 
know him. I — I would not like to think you 
knew that man. Yes, I worked so hard to 
make myself strong in order that I might 
punish him for his insults to me.” 

She made an effort, which escaped Arthur, 
to control her agitation, and then went on 
in a tone of simulated indifference : 

“And you had no thought of striving for 
mere beauty of form at the time?” 

“Why, at first, I would have laughed at 
anybody who had spoken to me of such a 
thing; but while I was at work at the gym- 
nasium something called my attention to the 
Greek and Roman athletes; and from that I 
was almost forced to see the artistic side of 
development. I bought plaster casts of fa- 
mous sculptures and studied them until I 
became more an enthusiast on the subject of 
beauty than of strength.” 

Helen Bertram listened with delight, and 
cried out the instant he was silent : 

“You can understand me, then, when I 


232 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


say that men are not much less ignorant 
than women. What does the average man 
think of beauty? Why, to him that woman 
is beautiful whom the artist knows to be de- 
formed. We are so afraid of the real man or 
woman— the nude— that few of us have any 
conception of what real beauty of form is. 
We admire that which is deformed and dis- 
torted, when we should be glorifying only 
that which is perfect.” 

“ That is true ! Oh, how true it is ! ” cried 
Arthur. “Why, excepting a sister of mine, 
you are the only woman I have ever met 
who held such views.” 

“Then, you see,” she went on, so charmed 
at finding a sympathetic soul that she forgot 
everything but the opportunity to express 
herself, “our notions of beauty being so false, 
we look upon beauty rather as an accident 
and are vain of it, when in fact we should 
only rejoice in it and strive honestly and 
openly to attain to it.” 

“Yes,” he said, “I know I am called vain, 
when I am only frankly conscious of a good 
body. I did not know until Mr. Bernardo 
praised me that I was so much better formed 
than most others.” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


233 


“Speaking of Mr, Bernardo,” she said, 
“he told me something I had never thought 
of before, but which I have found to be true 
since. He said that many men are called 
handsome and many women beautiful who 
have not good health; but that it is impos- 
sible for one to have a really beautiful body 
without health.” 

“What you meant, then, about men being 
as ignorant as women was that they knew 
no more about real beauty?” 

“ Yes,” she answered ; “ and I think we shall 
not be better men and women until we know 
what beauty is and try to attain it.” 

“Ah,” murmured Arthur admiringly, “you 
don’t know how much good it does me to 
meet such a wholesome woman as you.” 

“If I did not feel as I do I could not pose 
as I do for Mr. Bernardo,” she said. “It is 
true that I pose because I need the money, 
but if I needed it a thousand times more I 
would not pose unless I felt the glory, the 
dignity, the purity of a beautiful body. I 
assure you, I enjoy the beautiful curves of 
that clay figure in the studio quite as much 
as if they had been copied from a body I 
had never seen.” 


234 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


Listening to her musical voice, looking into 
her clear, truthful eyes, it seemed to Arthur 
that he was in the presence of a superior 
being who, by the mere emanation from her 
person, kept all impurity and baseness from 
her. 

“I shall take a higher view of things from 
having had this talk with you,” he said, ear- 
nestly. “I hope we may be good friends, and 
that we may meet again. You know I have 
engaged to pose for Mr. Bernardo, and shall 
be here daily from this time forward.” 

It seemed to him that she gave a faint 
start as she listened, and seemed to wrap 
herself in a new reserve as if she regretted 
the freedom of the talk she had already had, 
and would avoid its repetition. 

“I am afraid,” she said, gravely, “that 
I shall not be able to meet you soon again. 
It is inevitable that we should meet sometimes, 
but we would better recognize at once the 
fact that our ways diverge from the studio. 
In that group in there lies our only common 
ground.” 

“Why should you say that?” he demanded, 
almost passionately. “Are not our views of 
life, our daily and hourly thoughts of a simi- 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


235 


lar character? It seems to me that on every 
side of us is common ground.” 

“You say that because you do not know,” 
she said, sadly. “ There is no common ground 
for you and me; and I hope you will take 
my word for it and not seek for a closer ac- 
quaintance than already exists. If I were not 
so impulsive I would have been more reticent 
to-day.” 

“I am glad you are impulsive, then,” said 
Arthur; “and you should be, for you have 
done me incalculable good by what you have 
said. You say you like honesty and frank- 
ness ; then let me say that I want to be good 
friends with you. I am sure there is no 
reason why we should not be.” 

He spoke of friendship, but he left no doubt 
in the mind of his hearer that friendship was 
but a mild term for a much more ardent 
emotion; and it was with difficulty that she 
controlled her agitation. 

How much troubled she was by his insist- 
ence on continuing the friendly intercourse so 
auspiciously begun might have been guessed 
by the relief she betrayed when the front 
door of the house opened to admit Mr. Ber- 
nardo. 


236 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“ Here he is ! ” she cried ; “and now I must 
go. Good afternoon, Mr. Raymond ! I have 
played hostess for you, Mr. Bernardo,” she 
said, “but I must hurry away, for I am late. 
Good afternoon!” 

“You will be here to-morrow. Miss Ber- 
tram?” the sculptor asked. 

“If nothing prevents. Good afternoon, 
Mr. Raymond!” and she was gone. 

“I am so rejoiced to see you, Mr. Ray- 
mond. I was afraid by going out I might 
lose you, and yet it was impossible to remain 
at home. You liked Miss Bertram, I am 
sure.” 

So said the sculptor, as he warmly shook 
Arthur by the hand. Arthur murmured an 
assent. Mr. Bernardo, in his energetic way, 
led him into the studio, descanting on the 
delight of having him for a model, and 
explaining to him just what he wished him 
to do. 

Arthur listened in a preoccupied way for 
a while, and then turned abruptly to the 
sculptor and said : 

“Mr. Bernardo, I owe you an explanation, 
which I am loath to make, but see no way 
of avoiding.” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


237 


The sculptor stared at him in surprise. 
Arthur went on : 

“To be perfectly frank with you, I came 
here to pose only because I wished to meet 
Miss Bertram again, after encountering her 
at your door yesterday.” 

“Really!” 

“Yes, sir; and now that I have had a 
brief— too brief— talk with her I wish to meet 
her again. Mr. Bernardo, I am so drawn to 
her that I cannot be satisfied unless I am 
privileged to see and talk with her often. 
Please don’t say anything for one moment I 
I know how extraordinary this must seem 
to you, but it is as I tell you. I owe it to 
you to tell you this, and I beg of you to 
find the means to enable me to meet Miss 
Bertram.” 

“But, sir — permit me to say that I honor 
you for your manly, straightforward conduct, 
as well as admire your judgment — I really 
know of no reason why you need appeal to 
me for assistance in the matter. She comes 
here each day, and you have only to come 
also. I wish you joy, Mr. Raymond.” 

“She says she does not wish our acquaint- 
ance to ripen into anything more than exists 


238 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


at present. She says our ways diverge from 
this studio.” 

“ You surprise me. I only know other that 
she is poor, and has a mother to support. I 
diseovered her in a gymnasium where she was 
teaehing girls, and I persuaded her to pose 
for me. She had never done sueh a thing be- 
fore, but when I made it elear that I was a 
man of honor, she came. I believe that she 
was as much drawn by her love of beauty 
as by the reward, much as she needed the 
money.” 

“And you know of no reason why she 
should refuse to know me? You do not 
know of anybody else who has any claim on 
her?” 

“On the contrary, she has told me more 
than once that her mother was the only per- 
son who held any place in her life.” 

“Xhen,” cried Arthur, “it can only be some 
dislike for me that moves her. Well, I will 
conquer that! I must conquer it!” 

“Dislike of you!” repeated the sculptor, 
with an amused glance at the handsome 
young man. “I don’t believe that. I hope 
you will not give up too easily, Mr. Ray- 
mond,” he added, earnestly, “for if ever I saw 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 239 

two human beings suited to each other for 
the highest purpose of marriage, you are the 
two.” 

Give up easily!” cried Arthur, his eyes 
flashing. “I’ll not give up at all. I cannot 
give up. No. I mean to win Helen Ber- 
tram.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


Arthur found posing far more difficult 
than he had imagined it would be, but Mr. 
Bernardo not only made frequent breaks for 
rest, but sympathetically talked of Helen, tell- 
ing Arthur of her sweet, strong character as 
it had been revealed to him during the hours 
of her posing. 

“If I only knew,” said Arthur once, in a de- 
jected tone, “if there were someone else who 
had a claim upon her affections.” 

“I feel that I can assure you on that 
score,” said the other kindly. “She has said 
many times that she had no acquaintances 
almost, and was alone with her mother. I 
think they have quite recently come from 
Philadelphia.” 

“It seems impossible that she has no ad- 
mirers, she is so beautiful, so attractive.” 

“Ah, yes, but so reserved. And I think 
I may tell you that from the first she has 
taken a keen interest in you. I told her the 
next day after your bout with Morgan about 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


241 


you, and she betrayed the liveliest desire to 
hear all about you.” 

“Did she?” 

“Indeed she did, and to my surprise was 
willing to meet you, for she has always re- 
fused to dine with my wife and me to meet 
any of our friends.” 

“I suppose she wished to see me because of 
my strength,” said Arthur. “She could be 
moved by no other consideration; and I am 
sure there is nothing in that to give me cause 
for elation.” 

Mr. Bernardo smiled at Arthur’s despondent 
tone. It seemed to him amusing that so 
handsome a fellow should have such serious 
doubts of his attractiveness; though, at the 
same time, he respected him for his modesty. 

“ It may no cause for elation,” he answered, 
“but, on the other hand, it is no cause for 
depression. She knew nothing about you but 
what I had told her, and naturally I spoke of 
what had most impressed me — your marvel- 
ous development and strength.” 

It was probably a very good thing for 
Arthur that he had the kindly, sympathetic 
sculptor to talk to at that time, for, as 
matters stood, he could not have gone to 

i6 


242 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


Margie to talk of Helen, and but for the 
aecident that made Mr. Bernardo his natu- 
ral confidant, he would have been obliged to 
restrain himself altogether and give no au- 
dible expression to the strenuous emotion 
which had so suddenly and completely pos- 
sessed him. 

When at last the posing was over, he did 
not return to the office, nor yet go home, 
but struck across Union Square to Fourth 
avenue, as being quieter than Broadway, and 
so went up to Central Park by way of Madi- 
son avenue to Fifty-ninth street. 

An3rthing like such a perturbation of mind 
as he was now experiencing he had never 
known before. He was at once exalted by the 
divine passion that thrilled him, and sub- 
dued to despondency by a sense of unworthi- 
ness. He was sure that Helen was unaffected 
by the emotion that mastered him, and he 
was at the same time determined to win her 
if that were humanly possible. 

At one moment he was amazed at himself 
for yielding so completely to one he had met 
but twice ; and at the next he was comparing 
with equal wonder the sentiment which now 
possessed him with that which he had felt for 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 243 

Amelia. The regard, the love even, whieh he 
had felt for Amelia still remained, but it was 
no more to be eompared with the throbbing 
emotion which now mastered him than an 
ant hill is to be compared with an active 
volcano. 

It was late when he reached home, but his 
long walk had done him good. His mind was 
clear of small doubts, and his purpose was 
plain before him. It was not now so much 
that he was determined to woo Helen as that 
he knew he must ; he was so powerfully drawn 
to her. 

Dinner was over for the other members of 
the family, when he went into the house, so 
that he had no hesitation about first having 
his bath before going to the dining room. 

He ate with a calmness that would have 
been impossible an hour earlier. He had no 
more hope of winning Helen Bertram now 
than before, but he had a fixed and definite 
purpose, and he knew that he loved her. 

It was his custom to go to Margie’s room 
whenever he had any time at home, partly 
because he and his sister were such good 
friends, but chiefly, perhaps, because he loved 
little Gertrude so dearly. All children ap- 


244 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


pealed strongly to him, whether white or 
black, clean or dirty; but this one little mite 
was so close to him that he sometimes almost 
forgot that it was not his own. 

It was too late to see the baby this evening, 
but he went as usual to Margie’s room, after 
eating ; and when his sister looked inquiringly 
at him, she saw that he had come with the 
intention of telling her something, and at 
once she leaped to the conclusion that that 
something related to Amelia. 

Herbert, too, suspected the same thing, and 
in a few minutes made an excuse for leaving 
the room, thinking to leave them alone to 
have their talk; but Arthur stopped him, 
saying frankly : 

“ Don’t go, Herbert. I want to say some- 
thing to Margie, but I’d like you to be here 
if you don’t mind.” 

“Certainly,” Herbert said, and sat down 
again. 

There followed a few moments of embar- 
rassed silence, but before Margie could say 
anything, with her woman’s tact, to relieve 
the situation, Arthur had exclaimed : 

“There isn’t any easy to begin, Margie. 
It’s about Amelia.” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


245 


“Yes, dear.” 

“I am sure now that it was all a mistake. 
I am sure I never felt toward her as a man 
should toward the woman he would make his 
wife.” 

“You didn’t love her, Arthur?” 

“Oh yes, I did love her, and I do love 
her, but not as a man should his wife. If 
I had known the value and importance of 
physical attraction I would never have made 
the mistake of asking her to be my wife.” 

“But you felt that physical attraction 
before she was sick,” Margie said reproach- 
fully, “and you will feel it again when she 
has recovered her vitality and her beauty, 
through the efforts she is now making. Why, 
already she is a different girl, and if she were 
sure that you still loved her she would im- 
prove with marvelous rapidity.” 

“Margie,” Arthur answered, with a con- 
viction born of his new knowledge, “I never 
felt that physical attraction in its strength 
and fullness. I did not know what it was. 
I was ignorant.” 

“And you know now?” Margie demanded# 
sharply. 

“Yes.” 


246 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Who is it?” 

There was a note of anger in the inter- 
rogation, for Margie was a strong parti- 
san of her little friend next door, and was 
making her eause her own. But Arthur pa- 
tiently ignored his sister’s indignation and 
answered ; 

“It is no one you know.” 

“You are fiekle,” she cried, “I am not 
sure that you were not already tired of Amelia 
and only made her sickness an excuse for a 
rupture.” 

“Don’t be unjust, Margie,” Herbert said 
softly. “Don’t forget that it was Amelia 
and not Arthur, who broke the engagement.” 

“He made a condition he knew she would 
not submit to,” answered Margie quickly. 
“ He knew she would refuse to do as he wished 
when he went to her.” 

Arthur might have reminded her that all 
that he did was don-e in accordance with her 
advice, but he wisely refrained from doing so, 
and said : 

“I meant to be fair and honorable before, 
and I mean to be now, Margie ; and I am 
sure you would be the first to bid me make 
no mistake. I do not love Amelia as a man 


A STRENUOUfi LOVER 


247 


should love his wife, and for that reason I 
shall accept as final the rupture which she 
made.” 

“It will break her heart,” said Margie. 
“Do you know I sometimes wish Herbert 
and you would think less of the physical side 
and more of the spiritual. Why, to be logical, 
Herbert should separate from me if I were to 
fall ill.” 

She said this with an air of having driven 
their argument into a comer from which it 
could not escape; but Herbert only smiled 
as he answered : 

“If you are expecting any such outcome 
as that, Margie, dear, you will be sadly mis- 
taken. My theory of marriage leads to no 
such pitiful results; but certainly if you were 
to become in any way a sickly, ailing woman, 
I would consider myself a criminal if I were 
to allow you to be the mother of my child; 
and you know that we do not advocate 
making the physical the only basis of mar- 
riage, although we do make it the most im- 
portant.” 

“It seems to me to bear pretty hard on 
poor little Amelia,” sighed Margie. “Here 
she is working with might and main to be 


248 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


what Arthur wished her to be, and now he 
says he doesn’t care what becomes of her.” 

“Oh, Margie!” murmured Arthur, in a 
hurt tone. 

“I see it in an altogether different light,” 
said Herbert. “It seems to me that anything 
that will bring Amelia to robust health must 
be a blessing; and her heart will be insured 
against breakage by the very health that is 
coming to her. Arthur isn’t any more the 
only man in the world than she is the only 
woman, and you may be sure that when she 
meets the man who thrills at the sight and 
touch of her, she will experience the same 
feeling, and will realize that in losing Arthur 
she made the happiest escape of her life. I 
refuse to feel pity for Amelia. Think of 
our own happiness, Margie, and do not be 
so unkind as to wish less to two persons 
^ou love as much as you do Arthur and 
Amelia.” 

“All the same, I wish Arthur did love her,” 
Margie sighed. 

Herbert sprang up and caught her in his 
arms, laughing, and saying to Arthur as he 
did so : 

“That means that she sees the matter 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


249 


as we do., and will give up trying to force 
you into an unhappy marriage.” 

“It means that you have the best of the 
argument; not that you are right. That 
I shall have to think over quietly.” 

But when Arthur rose to go to his own 
room she laid her cheek against his in a 
way that assured him that he had her entire 
sympathy, and that the incident of Amelia 
was closed for her, so far as he was concerned. 

In one sense the situation was no different 
from what it had been for him, but he went 
to sleep that night feeling that the last bond 
with the past had been severed, and that he 
was free now to turn his face toward the new 
sun which had risen in his life. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


The days that followed were full ones for 
Arthur. In order to accomplish all the work 
he had taken upon himself at the office he 
reached there an hour earlier each day, and 
worked until he left in the afternoon with a 
calm intensity that accompKshed wonders. 
Then came the meeting and a few minutes’ 
conversation with Helen; then the posing, 
and then the long walk, during which Helen 
engrossed all his thoughts. 

But the few minutes with Helen were what 
he lived for. The old day ended with the 
meeting and the new day began when she 
left him. 

The day of his second posing, by getting 
to the studio early, he contrived to have 
quite ten minutes’ talk with her. The next 
day she hurried away after five minutes with 
him, and it seemed to him that he caught 
a look in her usually calm eyes that betokened 
a disturbed mind. The following day, al- 
though he was early, she was already leaving 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


251 


the house. He cried out his disappointment 
and chagrin involuntarily. 

“Why are you so early to-day?” he de- 
manded, searching her eyes eagerly. 

She looked down and answered confusedly : 

“I — I was through, and — and I have some- 
thing to do for mother.” 

“Oh!” murmured Arthur, devouring her 
with his eyes, and summoning his courage 
for one of the most daring requests imagin- 
able. “May I not walk a little way with 
you? I am not due quite yet, and— and a 
little more exercise will be good for me.” 

“No, oh no!” she cried quickly; and it 
seemed to Arthur as if he had caught a 
frightened look in her eyes as they first swept 
the street, and then looked pleadingly at 
him. “Thank you, but I must hurry. In- 
deed I must.” 

“But you will not hurry away to-mor- 
row?” he begged humbly. 

“I — I don’t know what I shall have to do 
to-morrow,” she answered in a troubled tone. 
“Good day!” 

Arthur watched her as she hurried up the 
street, and then went dejectedly into the 
house, the door having been left open for 


252 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


him. He was certain that she suspected his 
love for her, and wished to show him that it 
was hopeless. He carried a very heavy heart 
with him on his walk that afternoon. 

It was a good thing for him in these days 
that he had baby Gertrude to take into his 
confidence, for he did not feel that he could 
share this new passionate love with anybody 
else. 

It was plain enough to his sister and to 
Herbert that the course of his love was not 
running smoothly, but there was nothing 
they could do to help, so they held their 
peace, except for pretending to jealousy be- 
cause, as they said, he had won first place 
in the heart of little Gertrude. 

The evening after Helen’s hurried departure 
from the studio, Arthur thought the matter 
over in the sweet calm of the baby presence 
and came to a determination. 

He was at the studio half an hour earlier 
than usual the following day. That was what 
he had made up his mind to do, and he did 
it, even though he fairly trembled with appre- 
hension when he saw Helen enter the reception 
room where he sat, waiting for her. 

She was undoubtedly early enough to have 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


253 


been gone before his usual time of appearanee, 
and she started with surprise when her eyes 
fell on him. 

He saw her bite her lip as if to suppress 
an exelamation of annoyanee, perhaps, and 
he went toward her deprecatingly, saying in 
an apologetic tone : 

“I had the time to spare, so I came early, 
hoping I might have the pleasure of a few 
words with you.” 

It seemed to him that it was in her mind 
to refuse to remain, for she made a gesture 
as if to leave the room ; but if that had been 
her intention, she abandoned it, and with 
a deep breath, as if another resolve had deter- 
mined her, she sat down and smiled at him. 

“I can spare a few minutes,” she said 
in the gracious way that set his heart to 
beating tumultuously. “How your part of 
the group grows under the enthusiastic touch 
of Mr. Bernardo. You and I will have reason 
to be proud of the part we have been able 
to play.” 

From that the talk went on, and Arthur 
was soon at his ease. He did not reflect at 
the time on anything but the supreme delight 
of being in that wonderful presence; but 


254 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


after ske had gone he found himself wonder- 
ing at her sudden graciousness when she had 
until then been so distant and disturbed; 
and she had as good as promised to meet 
him again on the following day. 

“Shall you go home early to-morrow?” 
he had asked. 

“No,” she had answered, her eyes drooping 
under his eager gaze. “I shall go at my 
regular time.” 

And from that time, day after day, he 
and she met in the quiet reception room 
and talked. It is true that with all her 
graciousness and gentle womanliness she al- 
ways kept him at a certain distance, but 
there were times when Arthur’s heart was 
filled with a wild joy over the suspicion that 
she might care more for him than she was 
willing to let him know. 

Sometimes at meeting, or at parting, there 
was a sudden expression in her eyes as if an 
emotion deep-seated in her heart had caught 
her off guard and had leaped up into view; 
but Arthur could never be sure of this, and 
his depression after his swift elation was pro- 
portionately deeper. 

Nevertheless, as the days went by, and no 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


255 


effort of his closed the gap which seemed to 
exist between them, he began to wonder if 
it must always be so. He had begged her 
to allow him to call on her; he had pleaded 
to be allowed to take his mother or sister 
to visit her. She had refused in troubled 
tones and with downcast eyes, but with a 
firmness that was like adamant. 

It began to seem as if there were a mystery 
in her life, but Arthur would not permit him- 
self to think such a thing. He told himself 
that it was only necessary to look into her 
clear, honest eyes to know that her life ran 
as limpid as a mountain brook in its passage 
through a quiet pool. 

His love increased as the days went by, 
and if Helen sedulously avoided making any 
sign of returning his passion yet she no longer 
discouraged him, but fell into a delightful 
state of comradeship with him. 

He did not mean to utter a word to betray 
his love, but it was impossible for her to 
have any doubt of it, for it showed itself in 
the caressing tones of his rich voice, in the 
glance of his eye, in the lingering touch of his 
hand when he bade her good-bye or greeted 
her. 


256 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


Finally, one day, she betrayed a certain ten- 
derness for him. He was sure of it, though 
it was but by a word now and again, by a 
look suddenly surprised in her wonderful eyes, 
by a tone or a gesture; and he was beside 
himself with hope. 

When she bade him good-bye her hand 
trembled in his and was not withdrawn as 
quickly as usual ; from her eyes shot a glance 
of pleading or pity or love, he could not be 
sure which, only that it sent a thrill through 
him; and her full under lip quivered so that 
her words were not as distinct as was com- 
mon with her. 

Than night he was happier than he had 
been at any time. It was almost as if a 
hope had been realized. He walked as if on 
air. He could not help being at the studio 
earlier than usual the next day. 

“Mr. Bernardo wants you to go right 
into the studio, sir,” the door attendant said 
to him as he started to enter the reception 
room, according to his custom. 

Arthur looked keenly at the boy, and a 
question leaped to his lips, but he had the 
self-control to suppress it. 

“The studio!” he murmured. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


257 


“Yes, sir. He’s waiting for you.” 

Again Arthur wanted to ask a question 
of the boy. He would have given anything 
to know if Helen were in the studio; but 
he could not bring himself to ask. So he 
walked toward the studio, at first briskly, then 
slowly, and then briskly again. 

He had meant to knock loudly at the 
door of the studio so that he might not sur- 
prise the sculptor and his model, if by chance 
the boy had made a mistake, and Helen was 
posing; but the door stood open, and he 
realized by the sudden heaviness of his heart 
how much he had counted on finding Helen 
there. 

“But maybe she is there,’’ he said to him- 
self, starting on again. “Maybe she is 
through posing.’’ 

He did not believe it possible, however, 
and was not surprised, on entering the studio, 
to see only Mr. Bema.rdo there. The sculptor 
came forward to meet him contrary to his 
usual informal way of greeting him uncere- 
moniously. 

“Delighted to see you, Mr. Raymond,’’ 
he said, eyeing him keenly. “I am glad that 
you, at least, have not left me in the lurch.’’ 
17 


258 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Left you in the lurch!” Arthur repeated 
quickly. “What do you mean?” 

“You did not know, then, that Miss Ber- 
tram was not going to pose any more?” 

“Not pose any more? Miss Bertram?” 
gasped Arthur, with a sense of shrinking as 
one does who anticipates a blow without 
knowing whence it will come. “Why not? 
She has not been here to-day, then?” 

“No. Instead of coming she sent a note.” 

Arthur looked at the hand of the sculptor, 
as if expecting to see the note there. Mr. 
Bernardo, interpreting the look, indicated his 
little table at the other end of the studio by 
a gesture, saying : 

“It is there; you shall read it.” 

Trembling in apprehension of the unknown, 
Arthur walked in silence by the side of the 
sculptor to the table, and took the opened 
letter which the latter handed to him. 

Perturbed as he was, he could not help 
noticing how firm and bold the handwrit- 
ing was; and, as a lover foolishly will, felt 
a thrill of pride that even the handwriting 
became the noble, self-reliant character of the 
woman. 

The sculptor considerately turned away 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


259 


and busied himself with his group while Ar- 
thur read the brief note. 

“My dear Mr. Bernardo,” it ran, “I know 
from what you told me yesterday that you 
can now finish your group without me. I there- 
fore feel the less concern in being obliged to 
tell you that I shall not be at the studio 
again. Pardon my abruptness in notifying 
you of this fact, and please believe that I 
shall be forever grateful to you for your 
courtesy and your generosity. 

“Will you say good-bye to Mr. Raymond 
for me, and tell him that I am glad to have 
had the pleasure of knowing him, and am 
sorry that I shall never see him again? 

“Sincerely yours, 

“Helen Bertram.” 

“Never see me again!” muttered Arthur, 
in a sort of stupefaction. “Never see me 
again I My God ! What have I done that 
she should say that?” 

“It is rather abrupt, isn’t it?” the sculp- 
tor said, seeing by a glance at Arthur that 
he had read the note. 

“She has done it to get away from me,” 
Arthur said huskily. “I have annoyed her.” 

“Nonsense, my dear boy,” cried the sculp- 


260 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


tor heartily, approaching him and taking 
the letter from him and glancing at it. 
“Would Helen Bertram say she was glad to 
have known you, and sorry she was not to 
see you again, if she had been annoyed by 
you? If you think so, you don’t know the 
quality of her honesty. No, sir. She meant 
every word of what she said when she wrote 
that.” 

“Then why has she done this?” Arthur 
asked sadly, intent only on a sense of his 
unworthiness. 

“That is more than I can tell you, but 
I think you may rest assured that it was 
from no dislike of you. In fact, to be frank 
with you, as I may fairly be now that this 
has happened, she has always been positively 
enthusiastic about you whenever you have 
been the subject of conversation, and that 
has not been seldom, I assure you.” 

“But I am sure that she has stopped 
coming in order to avoid meeting me,” said 
Arthur, shaking his head dismally. “You 
won’t deny that?” 

“No. I won’t deny it. I wish I could. 
But that is another matter. I don’t pretend 
to understand it, Mr, Raymond, but I am 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


261 


convinced there is a mystery in her life, an 
understanding of which would be a solution 
of her conduct just now.” 

Mystery is such an ugly word, implying 
so much that is unpleasant, that Arthur 
shrank from using it in connection with Helen ; 
particularly now that there was something 
in her conduct that needed explanation. How 
could there be a mystery in the life of a pure, 
noble, high-minded girl of her age? 

“Why — ^why do you think so?” he asked. 
“It seems so foreign to her nature. You say, 
yourself, that she is so extremely truthful.” 

“Oh, please understand,” the sculptor said 
quickly, “that I imply nothing to her dis- 
credit. I never met a nobler woman than 
Helen Bertram ; but it is not natural for one 
of her age to be as reticent about herself as 
she has always been. Indeed it was contrary 
to her own nature; for often she would be 
in the midst of some story about herself, and 
would seem suddenly to fear that she might 
be saying too much, and would stop. I am 
afraid there is some trouble in her life.” 

“That might be,” Arthur cried eagerly. 
“There may be some relative — her father, 
a brother — who has brought disgrace on the 


262 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


name. Oh, if I could only find her! If I 
could only win her confidence and her love! 
You must know her address, Mr. Bernardo?” 

“Ye-es,” was the hesitating answer. 

“You will give it to me?” pleaded Arthur. 
“It is true she refused to tell me where she 
lived, but I am sure that she cannot find 
fault with me for going to her now. I would 
tell her that she need not fear me. I would 
rather die than do a thing to make her un- 
happy. You will give me the address, Mr. 
Bernardo?” 

“She particularly asked that you should 
not know it.” 

” But you believe that my purpose is honor- 
able, do you not?” 

“Be sure I believe that, or I would not 
have shown you that note.” 

“And oh! Mr. Bernardo!” Arthur cried 
with suppressed emotion, “it may be that 
at this time, more than at any other, she 
needs a devoted friend. She did not write 
that note to you lightly; and if you are 
right, and it was not because she was annoyed 
with me, then it may be that I can be of 
service to her.” 

“You had no suspicion of what was com- 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


263 


ing from anything she said yesterday? She 
betrayed no emotion?” demanded the sculp- 
tor, who was seeking some excuse for absolv- 
ing himself of his promise not to tell Helen’s 
address. 

“She was kinder than usual,” answered 
Arthur, in a low tone, the recollection of his 
happiness oppressing him now. “I — I began 
to hope yesterday.” 

“It seemed so from your manner. I be- 
lieved she had given you reason to hope; 
but I see better now. She knew she was bid- 
ding you farewell.” 

“You will give me her address?” pleaded 
Arthur. 

“If I could only be sure what would be 
best for her,” muttered the sculptor, with 
a puzzled frown. 

“Can I say more than that I love her 
and would make her my wife?” cried Arthur 
passionately. 

“But if you were to surprise some secret 
others which you have no right to know?” 

“I love her! Ah! Mr. Bernardo, do not 
lose valuable time. How can we know that 
she does not need me now? Can any secret 
of hers come to harm when I love her as I 


264 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


do? Oh, trust me, and give me her address ! ” 
“I see how it is,” sighed the sculptor, 
with an air of resignation, “I shall lose both 
my models. Oh love! love!” 

He hunted in the drawer of the table as 
he spoke, and presently drew forth a slip of 
paper on which Helen had written her address. 
Arthur caught at it eagerly. 

“One Hundred and Thirty-fourth street!” 
he exclaimed. “I will go at once. You will 
forgive me if I do not pose? I could not!” 

“Go by all means, and my best wishes 
with you.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


For once Arthur did not walk up town; 
he was in too great haste for that, but almost 
ran to the elevated station. 

The address was that of a neat and modest 
apartment house, with two small flats on 
each floor. The name of Mrs. Alicia Bertram 
was on the letter box belonging to the fourth 
floor, and Arthur felt his heart begin sud- 
denly to throb as he pressed the electric 
button belonging to the apartment. 

He rang and waited several times, until a 
feeling of dread began to steal over him, and, 
in desperation, he pushed the button in and 
held it there for a considerable length of time. 
Then, at last, the front door flew open with 
that click so familiar to those who know 
flats, and with a sigh of relief Arthur entered 
the house and mounted the dark and silent 
stairway. 

A woman and a little girl were standing 
in the hall of the fourth floor, apparently 
waiting for him, and he began to speculate 
on what relation they might be to Helen. 


266 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Did you want to see anybody?” the 
woman said, as he eame near the top of the 
stairs. 

“I want to see Miss Bertram.” 

“She doesn’t live here any more,” the 
woman said, eyeing him euriously. 

“They moved this morning,” the ehild 
interjected. 

“You keep still!” the woman said im- 
peratively. 

“Moved this morning!” repeated Arthur, 
looking from woman to child. “Then you 
are not members of the family?” 

“We live in here; they lived in there,” the 
woman said briefly, indicating the two doors 
side by side. 

“Do you know where they’ve moved to?” 
he asked. 

“I guess if they’d wanted you to know 
they’d have told you,” answered the woman 
with a defiant toss of her head. 

“I am a friend of Miss Bertram’s,” he 
said, troubled deeply at finding the same 
sense of mystery pervading Helen’s recent 
home as had been apparent in her conduct. 

“He’s nicer than that ugly man, isn’t he, 
mamma?” cried the child, whose innocent 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 267 

eyes had been frankly studying Arthur’s 
face. 

“You go inside and stay there, ’’the woman 
said angrily, pushing the child toward the 
door. 

“Well, he is, anyhow,” pouted the little 
girl, making a slow retreat. 

“You are a friend of hers?” Arthur de- 
manded. 

“Yes, I am.” 

“lam, too,” he said earnestly. “I would 
do anything in the world to aid her; indeed 
I would.” 

“I don’t know anything about that,” was 
the sharp retort; “but I guess she hasn’t so 
many friends that she would slight the least 
of them. If she wants you to know where 
she’s gone, she’ll tell you all right. Excuse 
me, but I’ve got work to do.” 

“Oh! madam!” cried Arthur, “what can 
I say to win your confidence? Is there noth- 
ing that will make you believe that I am 
Miss Bertram’s friend?” 

“I guess not. It’s none of my business, 
anyhow. I think maybe Miss Helen doesn’t 
know you’re a friend of hers,” said the woman 
sarcastically. 


268 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


She was moving toward her door, as if 
to close the interview, when Arthur, at his 
wits’ end for an argument to affect her, burst 
out with the simple truth with such passion- 
ate fervor as to at least arrest the woman’s 
attention. 

“Madam,” he cried, “I love Miss Bertram. 
I love her truly, and with all my soul. I 
do not know what mystery there may be in 
her life. I do not know what her troubles 
may be. I confess that she is avoiding me, 
but I give you my word of honor that I 
wish for nothing so much as for her welfare. 
Will you not trust me?” 

The woman, impressed by the passion and 
fervor of his words, turned and faced him, 
her hands on her hips, her eyes searching 
his handsome face. 

“You look honest,” she said, “but that’s 
the worst of it. Lots of men will be honest 
about everything else, and liars when women 
are concerned. I can tell you I won’t be the 
one to add a feather’s weight to that girl’s 
troubles. If ever there was a good woman 
she’s the one, and I ought to know her, for 
she’s lived here these four months.” 

“I would die to save her unhappiness,” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


269 


Arthur said. “I haven’t known her very 
long, but I’ve seen her every day for a num- 
ber of days past, and I have learned to know 
her so well that I love her as I think man 
never loved before. If you would tell me 
where I ean find her, I am sure I can con- 
vince her that she may trust me..” 

The woman hesitated for a few minutes, 
studying Arthur’s face the while; then said 
slowly : 

“ The fact is that I don’t know where she 
has gone to. She said she would not tell 
me, so as to be sure no one could surprise it 
out of me. I guess maybe she knew you’d 
be hunting her up.” 

The woman did not mean it as such, but 
in fact her speech was a compliment to Ar- 
thur’s noble face. He was not conscious of 
it, however, for his heart was heavy with the 
sense of the mystery that deepened about 
the woman he loved. 

“You do not know?” he murmured sadly. 
“And can you give me no clew?” 

“No, I can’t, to be honest with you. I 
did try to find out through the man that 
drove the truck, but he didn’t know himself. 
She and her mother have been mighty good 


270 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


to us. Miss Helen sat up with my little girl 
when she was sick, and Mrs. Bertram made 
nice things to tempt her to eat when she 
was getting well, though Miss Helen said 
nobody ought to be tempted to eat; that 
when a sick person wanted to eat was time 
enough. But she was like an angel for good- 
ness. And that’s why,” she went on, with a 
flash of indignation in her eyes, “I hate to 
see her pursued by wicked men.” 

“I assure you I have only the purest 
motives in — ” 

“I didn’t mean you,” she interrupted. 
“I meant that other fellow.” 

“Another man?” Arthur queried, misery 
clutching his heart. 

“I might as well tell you,” the woman 
said. “I can see you’re another sort. Yes, 
there was a man came her to see her three 
times, so far as I know; all within the last 
three weeks. Some women would call him 
handsome, but he was just plain devilish 
looking to me. One of the tall, dark kind, 
with black eyes, with such a look in them as 
to make you wish you weren’t a woman when 
they rested on you. I should have thought 
she’d have hated him; and I don’t know 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


271 


but she did. Then, again, I don’t know that 
she did. Girls are funny about men, and 
all tastes are not alike. Good thing, too, 
I suppose.” 

“But what about him?” Arthur asked 
miserably. 

“Well, he eame here, as I say, three times 
that I know of.” 

“Four times,” piped up the voiee of the 
little girl, who had evidently been just inside 
the door. 

“You keep still!” eried the woman, but 
smiled at Arthur, as if to eall his attention 
to the cleverness of the child. “What four 
times?” 

“ Once when Miss Helen wasn’t home, don’t 
you remember?” shrilled the child, triumph- 
antly emerging into the hall. “Mrs. Bertram 
was crying, and said she would do all she 
could, and the man was so cross.” 

“That’s so,” cried the woman admir- 
ingly. “My goodness I It takes a child to 
remember things. Mrs. Bertram came to 
the door with the man the first time he 
came here, and she seemed all broken up. 
Afterward the man came when Miss. Helen 
was at home.” 


272 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“ You don’t know whether he was anything 
to her or not?” Arthur said huskily. 

The woman stopped suddenly and looked 
at him anxiously. It was evident that her 
desire to gossip and her regard for Miss Helen 
conflicted with each other. 

“Say! You know I never meant to tell 
anybody these things,” she exclaimed. “I 
guess Miss Helen knew I’d be sure to talk all 
right. Well, anyhow, I don’t like that other 
man a bit ; but now I think of it, I shouldn’t 
wonder if you were too late.” 

“Too late? Why?” 

“Well, my goodness!” she cried, her face 
lighting up with a sudden gleam of intelli- 
gence, “I wonder if it was you they meant.” 

“ Please explain what you mean ! ” he mur- 
mured in a sort of despair. 

“Why the last time he was here, she let 
him out, and I heard him say — you know 
it’s easy to hear anything that’s said in these 
here halls?” 

“I have no doubt.” 

“Well, I heard him say in a hard, bitter 
tone : ‘ Don’t forget that you belong to me, 
and that I won’t give you up to him if one of 
us dies for it!’ I remember his very words. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


273 


“That she belonged to him!” murmured 
Arthur. “And did she make no reply?” 

“I didn’t hear what she answered. Maybe 
she didn’t say anything. Like as not she 
didn’t, for she was one could hold her tongue 
when she wanted to. Upon my word, I’m 
sorry I can’t tell you any more.” 

Arthur’s trouble was great. It was possible 
to think Helen was bound to this unknown 
rival; it was equally possible to hope that 
his own star was in the ascendant; but it 
is the nature of a true lover never to dwell 
too long on the unpleasant aspect of his own 
case, and Arthur held to the hope that offered 
itself but a moment, and dwelt long and 
miserably on the fear that Helen was bound 
to another. 

“You don’t know any more about — about 
him?” he asked. 

“No, I don’t; but I’ll bet Miss Helen didn’t 
like him. I’ll tell you my opinion. I think 
she lit out of here so suddenly and secretly 
on his account. Mind you, I don’t know, 
but that’s what I think. You see he didn’t 
come often, and he didn’t stay long when he 
did come.” 

Arthur had a few moments of wretched 

i8 


274 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


indecision, and then made up his mind. Helen 
might be fleeing from him, or she might be 
escaping from the persecution of this other 
man. He would find her and learn the truth. 
There could be no harm in that. 

If she were afraid of him he could quickly 
make her understand that he was too much 
her friend to even look at her if it troubled 
her. If it should happen that there was 
another man in her life who was annoying 
her, then she could be made to understand 
that his — Arthur’s — life was at her disposal. 

Once his mind was made up he acted with 
quickness and decision. He had quite forgot- 
ten the woman while he stood there turning 
these thoughts over in his brain. Now he 
suddenly demanded : 

“Can I get into the flat? There may be 
something in there to give me a clew to where 
she has gone.” 

“ Maybe there is,” the woman cried. “ Come 
on ! I’ve the key. Miss Helen gave it to me 
the last thing. Hattie, get the key!” 

But the precocious little flat dweller had 
already darted away, and was back again in 
a moment with the key in her hand. The 
mother smiled at Arthur in silent approval 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 275 

of her clever child, and inserted the key in the 
lock. 

The mother and child hastened into the 
deserted apartments like hounds eager on the 
scent, but Arthur hesitated on the threshold, 
his heart throbbing and his imagination sug- 
gesting an impropriety in his thus going into 
Helen’s home without her invitation or con- 
sent. 

But he conquered that feeling by remem- 
bering that he meant her nothing but good, 
and he stepped into the rooms so lately 
animated by her sweet presence almost holding 
his breath in a sense of the sacredness of the 
place. 

“This was her room, mister!” the shrill 
treble of the child informed him from a little 
room to his left hand. 

He stopped, shrinking from entering her 
room, as if that surely was a place it would 
be profanation for him to enter; but the 
child, whose imagination was not affected by 
love, screamed out in exultation : 

“Here’s a picture! and it’s his’n. I’ll bet- 
cher.” 

A feeling that all this was like spying on 
Helen revolted his sensibilities, and he deter- 


276 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


mined to put an end to it as quickly as 
possible. 

He strode into the room, and came upon 
the mother and child eagerly studying a bit 
of a tom photograph. He took it from their 
hands and looked at it; it was the upper 
part, and showed only the face above the 
brows, really revealing nothing of the person’s 
distinguishing features. 

“It’s him, all right,” the woman said. 
“He was bigger than you ; taller and broader ; 
and he was dark. Some folks would call him 
handsome.” 

“Will you see if there’s anything like an 
address in any of the other rooms?” Arthur 
said, taking the torn piece of photograph 
and thrusting it into his pocket. He wanted 
to get them out of that room. It seemed 
to him that they desecrated it. He longed 
to be alone in there with the memories Helen 
had left. 

When they were gone he drew a long breath 
and looked slowly about. In an instant he 
had pounced upon an object lying on the 
floor with the avidity of a miser finding a 
glittering coin of gold. But in this case it 
was nothing more precious than a soft suede 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


277 


glove, left behind because it had lost its fellow, 
perhaps, or because it had been overlooked. 

Arthur pressed it to his lips, recognizing 
it as one he had seen Helen wear. Then he 
thrust it carefully into an inner pocket and 
walked guiltily out of the room. 

They found nothing in any of the rooms 
that could give them any idea of where the 
occupants had moved to, though the woman 
and child picked up every scrap of paper they 
saw and examined everything else carefully. 

“There isn’t much here, anyhow,” the 
woman said at last. “They were awfully 
clean folks. As for Miss Helen — my goodness ! 
I think she must ha’ nearly worn the bath- 
tub into holes with her bathing. You know 
you can hear through these partitions just 
as easy.” 

“I don’t think it’s worth while to hunt 
any more,” said Arthur, anxious to keep the 
woman from gossiping. “I’m very much 
obliged to you for coming in with me.” 

“ Oh, that’s all right,” answered the woman 
as voluble now as she had been disposed to 
be reticent at first. “I had nothing else to 
do. Besides, I’d promised Miss Helen I’d 
come in and clean up after she was gone. 


278 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


You know there always will be a little muss 
left when folks move — the cleanest of them; 
and I guess there never were any cleaner 
than the Bertrams.” 

“I’m greatly obliged to you, anyhow,” 
Arthur said, putting a silver coin into the 
hand of the little girl; “and if I may. I’ll 
come again to find out if you’ve heard any- 
thing about them,” 

“Say thank you to the gentleman,” ex- 
claimed the mother to the child, and then 
with a smile at Arthur, “children have to 
learn manners, I think, I never did know 
one that had them naturally. Yes, I’ll be 
glad to see you any time. When I clean up 
here I may come across something, you know. 
Of course Miss Helen paid me to clean up,” 
she added as the thought struck her that 
Arthur might not understand, 

“Here is my card,” he said, “in case you 
should have occasion to send me any word. 
Of course I will be glad to pay for any 
expense or trouble you are put to.” 

“Oh, well,” she answered earnestly, “as 
long as you’re a friend of Miss Bertram’s 
I’ll do anything. I only hope you’ll get her ; 
that’s all. Good day! Oh, I say, did you 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


279 


think of trying to find the truckman that 
took her things?” 

“How can I do that?” he demanded 
eagerly. 

“Well, I don’t know, unless you go to the 
nearest stand. There’s a big stable over on 
One Hundred and Twenty-fifth or Twenty- 
sixth street, near Third avenue. You might 
go there.” 

“Thank you!” he cried gratefully, “I 
will.” 

It seemed so valuable a suggestion that 
he hurried down through the dark halls, in 
which the gas had not yet been lighted, and 
out into the street. He stood for a moment 
on the sidewalk in front of the house, um 
decided which way to go, when around the 
nearest corner there came a tall man, walking 
rapidly. 

In an instant it flashed through his brain 
that this was the other man who stood so 
near to Helen that he could claim her for 
his. He turned full about so as to face him, 
and there was instant recognition on both 
sides. 

It was Charles Morgan who approached. 


CHAPTER XX 


It was appalling and it was incredible to 
Arthur that Charles Morgan could be the 
man who belonged in Helen’s life; but there 
was no time then to study the matter; for 
Morgan, after a sudden start at the sight of 
Arthur, had continued to approach. 

Arthur neither spoke nor moved, and Mor- 
gan, after that first movement, came toward 
him with no alteration of pace, but with a 
face distorted by an expression of hatred so 
malignant that it was actually Satanic. 

He passed so close to Arthur that his 
shoulder brushed the latter’s coat. Their eyes 
met and exchanged messages which it would 
have been difficult to translate into words. 

But Morgan did not turn into the house 
from which Arthur had just emerged. He 
passed on, leaving with Arthur nothing more 
than a consciousness of a hatred implacable 
and undying. 

“Is it an accident that he is here?’’ Arthur 
asked himself as his eyes followed the tall, 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


281 


stalwart figure rapidly being lost in the early 
twilight of a winter’s day. 

He drew the piece of tom photograph from 
his pocket and tried to study it in the dim 
light ; and when that proved futile, he tried to 
recall for comparison the hair and forehead of 
Morgan and those in the photograph. 

“How can it be? How can it be?’’ he 
murmured to himself in misery. “What has 
such as he to do in the life of a woman like 
Helen Bertram? Besides,’’ he thought, with a 
sense of reassurance, “if she had known him 
she would have told me, since she was fully 
aware of a part, at least, of my relation 
toward him.’’ 

Satisfying himself with this thought, he 
turned away from the house and set out to 
prosecute his inquiries regarding the truckman 
who had taken the furniture for Helen and 
her mother. 

Hardly had he turned the corner of the 
street when at the other end of the block the 
tall figure of Charles Morgan came stealthily 
into view. He had, in fact, been watching the 
man he so hated ; and, now that he was out 
of sight, came swiftly toward the house from 
which Arthur had just come. 


282 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


His movements were almost a repetition of 
Arthur’s. He pushed the electric button of the 
flat in which the Bertrams had been living 
several times until at last the door was 
opened. 

“Curse them!” he muttered savagely, as 
he entered the house, “did they know I was 
here?” 

The gas was lighted in the top hall by the 
time he reached there, and the woman and her 
child were standing there to greet him just as 
they had been in Arthur’s case. 

“Ho!” cried the woman triumphantly, as 
she recognized him, “you’re too late. She’s 
gone!” 

But Morgan, taken aback and surprised as 
he undoubtedly was, had not been educated in 
the shifty practice of the criminal lawyer to 
lose his presence of mind even at such an 
unexpected rebuff as this. 

“She’s gone!” he repeated, his black eyes 
searching her face. “Who’s gone? What do 
you mean?” 

“I mean Miss Helen’s gone; that’s what I 
mean.” 

A part, at least, of the truth flashed in- 
stantly into Morgan’s mind, and, suppressing 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


283 


the savage oath that leaped to his lips, he 
cried out so naturally as to quite deceive the 
woman : 

“Gone? Of course she’s gone; nobody 
knows that better than I do. That’s what I 
came to see you about.” 

“Well, you can’t get anything out of me, 
I can tell you.” 

Morgan laughed with very well simulated 
amusement. 

“I know I couldn’t if I wanted to; Helen 
told me you were too good a friend of hers to 
betray her willingly ; but I don’t want to get 
anything out of you. I only want to make 
sure you won’t let anybody else trick you into 
telling where Helen has gone.” 

“Where she’s gone? Not very likely to, I 
guess, since I don’t know myself. I wonder 
Miss Helen didn’t tell you that.” 

“It wasn’t necessary,” he said indifferently, 
though secretly cursing the woman for her 
shrewdness. “What she was afraid of was 
that you might unintentionally say some- 
thing to put her enemy on her track.” 

“ Her enemy ! ” repeated the woman, with a 
little laugh. “I wonder what he looks like. 
He isn’t a tall, dark man, is he?” 


284 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“You might describe him that way,” he 
answered, with every appearance of not com- 
prehending her very plain allusion to his own 
personal appearance, “but he isn’t as dark as 
I am, nearly. The fact is, however,” he went 
on, with all the theatrical impressiveness he 
had learned to use in addressing juries, “she 
wanted me to beg you to simply refuse to 
talk to anybody about her. She does not 
know, I don’t know, that the man she fears 
will know that she ever lived here, but he may 
discover it, and he is so clever that he may 
worm something out of you that you may 
not think is of any consequence.” 

“If I don’t know anything how can I say 
anything?” the woman cried sharply, her face 
betraying a certain perturbation; for now 
that Arthur was gone and Morgan was there 
speaking in a quiet tone of authority, she 
began to feel misgivings. 

“That is true, of course,” Morgan said, 
shrugging his shoulders as if he realized that 
there was no more to say on that subject. 
“But I suppose Helen felt so nervous about 
this man that she couldn’t help sending me to 
ask you to please be careful. By the way ! I 
might as well give you a little description of 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


285 


the man in case he should come. He’s not as 
tall as I am, and not so dark. He has brown 
eyes, and everybody calls him a very hand- 
some man. He’s an actor, and can put on 
lany kind of look to suit the occasion.” 

“It’s all very well telling me to look out 
for him,” the woman said nervously, “but 
how do I know it’s not you I’m to look out 
for? I don’t know who you are.” 

“That’s true enough,” he answered good- 
naturedly; “for all you know I maybe Helen’s 
worst enemy. But whether I am or not won’t 
matter in this case, for I’m not asking any 
questions of you, and all I am asking you to 
do is not to say anything about Miss Ber- 
tram to anyone. You will admit that there 
can’t be anything wrong in that?” 

“No, I s’pose not,” she replied uneasily; 
and then snapped sharply to the little girl : 
“Do stop pulling my dress!” 

“Oh, mamma!” exclaimed the child, who 
had been unusually silent up to this moment, 
“maybe that was a bad man.” 

“You hush, or I’ll send you inside!” 

The opportunity Morgan had been waiting 
for had come. He pretended to give a start 
of extreme surprise, and cried out sternly : 


286 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Is it possible that fellow Raymond has 
been here, and that you have betrayed some- 
thing to him? Oh, madam! madam!” 

“I didn’t know anything about him. He 
didn’t get mueh out of me, anyhow.” 

“Merciful heaven! poor Helen! poor 
Helen ! ” he cried tragically, as if plunged into 
the deepest grief by the circumstance. “Alas ! 
what shall I do now? Is it possible that you 
have discovered Helen’s hiding place and have 
let her enemy know it?” 

“No such thing,” answered the alarmed 
woman, becoming at last a facile instrument 
for the clever and unscrupulous lawyer to 
play upon : “I only told him he might go to 
the stables on One Hundred and Twenty- 
fifth or Sixth street to see if he could find the 
truckman that took her furniture.” 

“How long ago was that?” 

“ Just now. Why, you might almost have 
met him on the stairs.” 

“ Then if I hurry I may head him off. You 
are sure he could have learned nothing else?” 

“I let him into the flat, and he saw the 
upper part of a photograph that had been 
torn; a photograph of you, I do believe it 
was.” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


287 


“There was nothing else?” he demanded, 
giving her no time for refleetion. 

“Nothing. Oh, I hope I haven’t done 
anything—” 

“I hope not, but I don’t know. I’ll hurry 
after him. Oh, if he comes again be sure to 
say nothing of my visit, or you may do 
worse harm.” 

“I won’t, indeed I won’t!” the woman 
cried. 

Morgan had accomplished as much as he 
could hope to, and made all haste away from 
the house, eager to carry out a terrible 
thought that had been suggested to him by 
his evil brain. 

“Curse him!” he muttered as he strode 
swiftly down the street, “does he think he can 
take Helen from me as he did Amelia? He 
will discover before he is through with me 
that he had better never to have crossed my 
path.” 

Arthur was indeed to discover that no man 
ever had a more subtle, dangerous or un- 
scrupulous enemy than he had in Charles 
Morgan. 

The latter, who knew the neighborhood 
better than Arthur, was perfectly well aware 


288 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


that the stables to which the woman had 
alluded were in One Hundred and Twenty- 
sixth street ; but instead of going to them, as 
he had made her believe he would, he went 
with all possible speed to a house on One 
Hundred and Twenty-fifth street, passed 
through a liquor saloon into a back room, 
and there tapped at a side door in a peculiar 
way. 

A sliding panel opened in the door on a 
level with his face, and he was studied for a 
moment by a pair of keen eyes on the other 
side. 

“It’s all right, Billy,” Morgan said fa- 
miliarly. 

The door was instantly opened, and Mor- 
gan glided through the opening. A stairway 
led to the upper floor, though it needed one 
familiar with the place to find it as readily in 
the pitchy darkness as he did. Up the stairs 
he leaped rapidly, and at the top came to a 
door, on which he again knocked in a peculiar 
manner. 

As at the first door, he was admitted only 
after scrutiny, but evidently he had now 
passed all the barriers, and was at the end of 
his journey, for he was in a luxuriously fur- 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


289 


nished room, occupied at the moment by only 
half a dozen men, but plainly enough arranged 
for purposes of gambling. 

“ Hello, Charlie ! ” was the friendly greeting 
he received. 

“Hello!” was his preoccupied response. 
“Where’s Red Connor?” 

“Here I am, Charlie; what do you want? 
Got another lamb to be shorn?” 

There was a general low laugh at the 
speaker’s words as he came leisurely forward 
from a corner of the room where he had not 
been visible to Morgan. He was a sharp- 
faced man, with sandy hair, small, restless 
hazel eyes, and a wiry frame. His speech was 
the least bit drawling, but his manner was 
alert, and marked by a certain aggressive- 
ness, which, taken with his fastidiously clothed 
person, might easily impress the casual ob- 
server with the idea that he was a gentleman. 

“Come into the other room!” said Mor- 
gan, sharply, leading the way into the front 
room, which was separated from the other by 
portieres. 

“Nothing wrong?” queried the gambler. 

“No ; but I want you to do a piece of work 
for me right away.” 

t 


290 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Oh, go on!” the other drawled. 

“You know Murphy’s stables?” 

“On Twenty-sixth? Yes.” 

“A man by the name of Arthur Raymond 
has just been there— may be there now — to 
ask about a truek that took some furniture 
for a lady on One-thirty-fifth this morning. 
He’s after the address of the new house. Did 
he get the address? What about him, any- 
how? Find out all you can. Hurry!” 

“What sort of looker?” demanded the 
gambler, imperturbably. 

“Tall, brown-eyed, handsome, powerful.” 

The gambler stood a moment in reflection, 
then left the room without a word more to 
anyone, even as he passed through the other 
apartment. 

It might have been something more than 
half an hour that Morgan waited for the 
return of his emissary, and during all that 
time he paced the room a prey to bitter, 
hateful thoughts. Nor was he disturbed by 
the intrusion of any of those in the other 
room, an evidence of his importance in the 
place. 

He turned and stood facing the other room, 
when finally the sound of the opening of the 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


291 


door fell on his ears ; and when the imperturb- 
able gambler entered through the portieres 
his black eyes eagerly questioned him. 

“Dead easy,” said the gambler. “He’d 
only just gone, taking with him the informa- 
tion that the truck was stabled there, but 
that the driver was out then. That he could 
be seen before daylight in the morning, or in 
the evening about seven. Your man will call 
again to-morrow night.” 

Morgan’s dark face lighted up and a hor- 
rible oath leaped from his lips as he ejaculated 
his approval of the other. 

“You always get there,” he said. 

“I mean to,” was the drawling response. 

“Now there’s another thing, a little uglier, 
to do, but I want it done,” said Morgan. 

“Well?” 

“When that man Raymond goes to the 
stable to-morrow night I want him done up.” 

“Killed?” 

“No. I only want him spoiled a little. 
Can’t you get some of the outside gang to 
decoy him into some quiet place and spoil his 
good looks? They may have his watch and 
money, too.” 

“How much spoiled?” 


292 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Break his nose or his jaw; anything to 
rob him of his good looks !” was the answer, 
with the savage ferocity of a wild beast, 
“but don’t finish him, for I am saving him 
for worse than that. Curse him ! How I hate 
him ! ’’ 

“And what do I get out of it?” asked the 
gambler, calmly. 

“You may pluck the pigeon bare to-night, 
and keep all you get. I’ll see that he comes 
here.” 

The gambler half closed his ferret-like eyes 
and studied Morgan in silence for a few mo- 
ments, but presently smiled knowingly as he 
drawled : 

“I begin to see, Charlie; this man Ray- 
mond is Arnold’s employer. Deep, Charlie ! 
Deep !” 

“What makes you think that?” Morgan 
demanded angrily. 

“Oh,” drawled the other, “figures are in 
my line, and occasionally I put two and two 
together. I heard you and him talking about 
Raymond the other night.” 

An oath broke from Morgan’s lips, and 
there was more of threatening in his manner 
than in his words as he hissed fiercely : 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


293 


\ 

“ Curse you, Connor ! I don’t like to be 
spied on. Play your own game, and let me 
play mine.” 

The gambler looked at him very calmly, 
drawling : 

“Play your own game as much as you 
want to, Charlie, but don’t think you can 
draw me into it, and then play me for a fool. 
I generally know what I’m doing. I can be 
dumb, but I won’t be blind. I can see that 
you’re playing for a big stake, and I’m not 
going to do your dirty work for a few hun- 
dred while you, maybe, salt away the thou- 
sands.” 

“Perhaps you forget,” snarled Morgan, 
“ that if it wasn’t for me you’d be doing time 
in Sing Sing.” 

“If both of us got our desserts from the 
law,” the other retorted coolly, “both of us 
would be doing time — and a lot of it. As for 
what you’ve done for me, why I’d be rotting 
behind the bars now if I hadn’t been useful to 
you. So don’t talk sentiment to me. Play 
fair with me and I’ll play fair with you.” 

“What do you want?” snarled Morgan. 

“I want to be let in on the ground floor. 
How much is there in this deal?” 


294 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“ I don’t know myself, but I expect to find 
out to-night.” 

“Well, do I come into the game?” 

“What are your terms?” 

“One- third. That gives you one-third for 
your share and one-third for your brains.” 

“And you’ll see that Raymond is done up 
to-morrow night?” 

“Sure.” 

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking him 
too easy, for he’s a very tough proposition.” 

“So is a piece of lead pipe. Does one-third 
go?” 

“Yes, it goes,” Morgan answered sullenly; 
then added, as if he had made up his mind to 
accept the terms gracefully, “and I don’t 
mind saying your third ought to be worth 
ten thousand.” 

“That’s talking.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


It is a fortunate thing that premonition of 
impending evil is very rare, if not absolutely 
non-existent; for what would life be if the 
future were dark with the brooding of unde- 
fined terrors? 

Certainly Arthur was better olF for guess- 
ing nothing of the foul plot that was being 
hatehed against him. He went home, troubled 
indeed, but only by the thoughts of Helen 
Bertram, which the events of the afternoon 
had rendered inevitable. 

At the outset he had taken counsel only of 
his passionate love for Helen, and had 
hastened to her house; now, full of the dis- 
appointment of not finding her, depressed by 
the knowledge of the mystery in her life, and 
disturbed more, even, than he realized by the 
phantom of Charles Morgan which had passed 
so ominously between him and the woman he 
loved, he strode through the streets so ab- 
sorbed in his painful thoughts that he could 
not have been more alone if he had been in 
the midst of a desert waste. 


296 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


On reaching home, however, he was 
wrenched out of himself by the information 
imparted by Margie that his brother Robert 
was violent, and that his father was too weak 
to cope with him. 

Asking Herbert to assist him, he hurried to 
the room which served for the confinement of 
the poor wretch, and there found him strain- 
ing at his chains and emitting those dreadful, 
inarticulate sounds common to those in his 
condition. 

Heartsick at the necessity, Arthur and 
Herbert grappled with the maniac and put 
upon him a straight- jacket kept for the pur- 
pose ; but as they finally left the room, Arthur 
cried out : 

“It is barbarous, Herbert. There must be 
a better way than this. Besides, this is not 
life, but the degradation of it ! Oh, if father 
would let me try the experiment of the natural 
method of cure for poor Robert!” 

“You would try it yourself, Arthur?” 
Herbert asked in surprise. 

“No! Oh no! But I have been seeking 
the right man for some time, and I have dis- 
covered one who keeps a sanitarium up the 
Hudson River, who thinks it possible to cure 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


297 


Robert, though he can give no opinion until 
he has seen him.” 

“Have you spoken to your father about 
it?” 

“I have, but Dr. Brayton has convinced 
him that nothing is possible in the way of 
cure, and I have no right to take a step 
without father’s consent.” 

“It is true, but alas! that you cannot 
prevail upon him to at least listen to the 
doctor you have found. Is he a doctor, by 
the way?” 

“Yes, he is a highly educated regular 
physician, but he practices the natural method 
altogether. I would urge father more in- 
sistently if it were not that he is so far from 
well himself. Oh, why have I not the elo- 
quence to convince my own parents and my 
sister of the folly of the old way? There is 
Maude going to the hospital to-morrow to be 
operated on, to be ruined for life, and nothing 
I can say is of any avail!” 

“Why not make one more effort after 
dinner, Arthur? Margie has been talking 
to Maude to-day, and it may be that 
something you might say would turn her 
from her purpose; for it can’t be that she 


298 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


likes the thought of the ordeal she is to 
undergo.” 

Dinner could not be otherwise than a dull, 
almost mournful meal in the Raymond house- 
hold that evening, for of all who sat down to 
it only Margie and her husband were free from 
preoccupation of a painful nature ; while they, 
happy to overflowing in their well-rounded 
lives, felt the weight of sadness that rested on 
the others. 

But they soon escaped to their own room, 
where baby Gertrude awaited them, and 
where all was joy and peace and content- 
ment ; while Arthur, glancing from the drawn 
face of his father and the troubled, anxious 
one of his mother, to where Maude sat, won- 
dered why it was that when he carried to 
them a message of hope, they refused to 
accept it. 

“Do you go to the hospital to-morrow, 
Maudie?” he asked tenderly. 

“Yes, I do, but I don’t want to talk about 
it. The surgeon said I was not to be worried 
or troubled about anything.” 

“I don’t want to trouble you, dear,” he 
answered, “but I have been thinking that it 
was natural enough that you should not give 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


299 


much weight to my opinion, and that I ought 
to have it backed up by some good doctor’s.” 

“Excuse me if I go to my room, Arthur,” 
Maude said, rising and going to the door. 
“It is useless to open a discussion that can 
do no good.” 

Arthur saw the door close on his sister, and 
felt utterly helpless. He turned to his mother 
with a cry of despair. 

“Mother,” he said, “won’t you do some- 
thing? Call in a good, disinterested physi- 
cian, and have his opinion.” 

“Why, Arthur,” she answered, “I didn’t 
suppose you believed there was such a thing 
as a good, disinterested physician. I am sure 
I gained the impression that you believed all 
doctors humbugs.” 

“I never have believed of said such a 
thing,” he cried earnestly. “I consider the 
profession of healing as one of the noblest in 
the world, and I know well that there are 
many physicians who take a high and serious 
view of their work. My complaint is against 
those who enter the profession of medicine 
without any other purpose than to make an 
easy and respectable living; who only study 
enough to pass their examinations and get 


300’ A STRENUOUS LOVER 

their diplomas; and who neither study after- 
ward, nor really think at any time. They 
practice by formula, and prescribe on the 
hit-or-miss plan.” 

“I am sure I am glad to know that you 
don’t condemn all doctors,” his mother said, 

“I am so far from condemning them that 
I even am prepared to say that I believe the 
medical profession holds within its ranks some 
of the noblest, truest men living.” 

He rose and went to the door, seeing that 
it would only distress his parents to urge 
them to interfere to save Maude from the 
terrible knife. The subject must be aban- 
doned, and Maude must suffer. Alas ! that it 
was so. 

The servant handed him a letter as he left 
the room, saying it had just been brought to 
the house. He went up to the sitting-room 
to read it, and on reaching there carelessly 
looked at the address. He recognized the 
handwriting at once, and uttered a little cry 
of dismay. The letter was from Amelia, 

Not two months had passed since Amelia 
had given him back his ring, but it seemed to 
him as if an age had elapsed since that dis- 
tressing episode. The coming of Helen into 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


301 


his life had so dwarfed the figure of Amelia 
that this reminder of her gave him a painful 
start by the sudden reeall of the importance 
she had once been to him. 

He wondered what she could have to say 
to him, and prolonged the opening of the let- 
ter. If it had been from Helen he would have 
torn the envelope open; now he slowly took 
out his knife and carefully cut the end. Then 
he sighed, and drew the letter out of the 
envelope. 

The faint odor of violets that hung about 
the paper brought back to him Amelia’s love 
of those flowers ; and the sight of her pretty, 
round handwriting recalled the many affec- 
tionate words she had put on paper for his 
happiness. 

He sank sadly enough into a chair, the 
unread letter in hand, and the questioning 
thoughts came: Was he fickle in love? Had 
he ever really loved Amelia? Was it love he 
felt for Helen ? How could he be sure that he 
would not turn from her as he had turned 
from Amelia? 

He did not put the questions away from 
him unanswered, as a weaker man would 
have done, but faced them all manfully. He 


302 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


could not, and did not, blame himself for 
what had taken place between him and 
Amelia, but if inconstancy were a character- 
istic of his, then while there was time he 
would cry halt to his heart, and, let the pain 
be what it might, he would spare Helen any 
possibility of unhappiness by withdrawing 
from his pursuit of her. 

“ But I do love Amelia now,” he murmured, 
answering his own questions. “I love her as 
well as ever I did. If I had married her, even 
had she been well, it would have been a terri- 
ble mistake, for there was between us none of 
that physical drawing which so many call 
passion, thinking to debase it. When I was 
in Amelia’s presence I felt nothing of that; 
when I am with Helen I throb and thrill. If 
that were all, I should feel that it was the 
animal in me alone that was moved, but it is 
only a part. Besides that there is spiritual 
exaltation. If I feel the sweet thrill of passion, 
without which marriage would be a farce and 
an unholy mockery, I also experience the 
spiritual and moral exaltation which comes 
from the contact with a nature attuned to 
and complementing my own.” 

He had never analyzed his feelings in just 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


303 


this way before, and he did so now with a 
distinet sense of relief. He felt more at peace 
with himself, knowing that whatever pain 
Amelia might have suffered, she, at least, was 
infinitely better off than she could have been 
in becoming his wife. 

“What if I had married her and met Helen 
afterward?” he asked himself. 

The horror of the question was a sufficient 
answer to itself, as well as to any doubts of 
his constancy that had insinuated themselves 
in his brain. He unfolded- the letter and read 
it: 


“Dear Arthur: I want you to come and 
see me as one friend visits another. Because 
we are no longer in the relation of lovers is 
no reason why we should cease to be friends. 
I know as well as you now that we ought not 
have been lovers at all, but should have re- 
mained the friends we have been all our lives. 
How much harm is done us by the ignorance 
in which we are lovingly kept by those who 
should enlighten us ! I know a lot more than 
I did ; really I do. I was such a little igno- 
ramus I wonder you had any patience with 
me at all. 

“Do come in just as soon as you can, if 
only to see what even a short time of rational 


304 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


dressing and living can do. Can you imagine 
this little butterfly of an Amelia without 
corsets? Oh yes, I dare to say that improper 
word right out loud — CORSETS! And two 
meals a day! Honest! No meat— not even 
a shred ! Windows wide open at night ! A 
physical culture girl? I guess I am. Poor 
papa ! How he would like his third meal 
again ! But no, I am firm ; I am determined 
that he shall have no more indigestion. I 
am only sorry he doesn’t wear corsets so I 
could make him take them off. I am just as 
crazy as you were to reform everybody. Papa 
says I’m a Mugwump, but I don’t know 
about that ; I’m afraid a Mugwump isn’t 
something nice. Is it? 

“Now, be sure you come. I want to know 
about this girl you are in love with. You 
see I know all about it. I went to Margie, 
and got it all out of her. 

“Affectionately, your little friend, 

“Amelia.”. 

“God bless the little woman!” Arthur 
exclaimed, starting to his feet as he read 
the last word. “What a heart of gold she 
has !” 

Within five minutes he was in the parlor of 
the Winsted house; and a very few minutes 
later there was a swift patter of little feet on 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


305 


the stairs, followed by the appearanee of 
Amelia. 

He took a step toward her, but she ran 
smilingly toward him with both hands out- 
stretched, so much like the merry, sprightly 
Amelia of the days before aches and pains 
were known to her, that he could not suppress 
the wondering cry of “Why, Amelia!” as he 
took the two little hands in his. 

“I am so glad to see you again, you 
naughty boy 1” she cried frankly, putting him 
quite at his ease at once. “This is so much 
better than hiding behind curtains to get a 
look at you. Sit down I No I Look at me 
first 1 Short skirt, red cheeks, bright eyes, 
big waist. Am I improved?” 

“You are like yourself. It would be hard 
to improve on that.” 

“Good. You may go up ahead for that; 
and sit down, too.” 

“But indeed you are even better to look at 
than ever you were,” Arthur said, conscious, 
in a most delightful way, of a perfect brother- 
liness toward her; “and are you feeling bet- 
ter?” 

“Why, I am almost well. Of course, I 
can’t walk as Margie can, but I do pretty 
20 


306 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


well. Oh dear ! I have tried so hard to coax 
Maude to try our way. Do you notice that I 
call it our way? Wasn’t it horrid of me, the 
way I acted when you tried to advise me?” 

“Why, you wanted to be convinced, I sup- 
pose, and I went at it in a clumsy fashion 
that repelled you.” 

“No; it wasn’t that,” she said, “I was 
horrid ; but it was a good thing, too. If it 
hadn’t been for that we would have been 
married, and then there would have been un- 
happiness. Yes, Arthur, I’m going to talk 
about it and get rid of it. I know now, as well 
as you, that I didn’t love you in the right 
way any more than you did me. We loved 
like real good friends, and that was all; and 
now we may go on loving in the same way, 
mayn’t we?” 

“I shall be so glad to have you for a 
friend, Amelia. I can’t tell you how unhappy 
I have been over it.” 

“And haven’t I, though? At first, after I 
was so horrid, I repented, and used to hide 
behind the curtains to watch for you; and I 
thought my heart was broken. I wished 
every day that you would come back to me. 
Then I took to curing myself in the sensible 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


307 


way — your way, you know. And I began to 
look into all sorts of things that I had been 
ignorant about — myself, for example ; and you 
ean’t guess how mueh I learned. Anyhow, I 
learned that friendship isn’t enough to marry 
on. Now I’m as glad as you that the engage- - 
ment was broken. Do tell me what her name 
is!” she inter] eeted abruptly. 

Arthur blushed and laughed together, but 
Amelia had put him into sueh good spirits, 
with her areh, merry ways, that he answered 
without a moment of hesitation : 

“Helen Bertram.” 

“What a lovely name I And she is beauti- 
fal, of eourse?” 

“The most beautiful — ” He stopped in 
confusion. Amelia laughed gaily, exclaiming : 

“Go on! I don’t mind. But do you love 
her very much?” And the laughing face grew 
suddenly serious. 

“Very, very much.” 

“Ah yes,” she said sympathetically, and 
leaned over and stroked his hand gently, 
“it is easy to see that you do. You are 
not making any mistake this time, Arthur. 
And she? Does she love you in the same 
way?” 


308 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“I don’t know that she cares anything at 
all for me,” he answered, his face falling. 

“Oh my!” Amelia murmured, her sweet 
face betraying her concern. “I didn’t mean 
to be indiscreet. I wouldn’t have been so free 
if I had known.” 

“You haven’t been indiscreet,” he cried 
eagerly. “If you would care to hear about 
it I shall be glad to tell you. Somehow I 
couldn’t tell Margie ; but you and I have been 
confidants so many years that it seems easy 
to tell you.” 

“I shall be so glad to have you. Is she 
little like me? Or is she big?” 

“Neither. She is — ” 

“ Just right. I know,” laughingly inter- 
posed Amelia. “Oh, Arthur, you just are in 
love, and I’m so glad. Now go on!” 

And Arthur poured his story into the 
sympathetic ears of the honest, earnest little 
woman who had had the courage to convert 
a failure in love into a success in friendship. 


CHAPTER XXII 


It was not only a comfort, but equally a 
benefit to Arthur to be able to express himself 
fully concerning his love for Helen Bertram. 
He thereby formulated many thoughts which 
had been lying in half obscurity before, and, 
too, Amelia’s questions brought new light to 
bear on old thoughts. 

Helen’s reticence and the mystery in her 
life troubled Amelia greatly, for she could not 
comprehend them. Her own life was so open 
and frank that it was hard for her to reconcile 
mystery with perfect purity and innocence. 
But after hearing all Arthur could tell her of 
Helen, she summed up her thoughts in a few 
sweet, womanly words : 

“I wish there was not the mystery, Ar- 
thur,” she said, “but I know I am not a 
proper judge, since my life has been an easy 
one. Helen’s has been one of trial, it is very 
evident. She has had to earn her living, and 
she has been poor. I have been shielded from 
all the enemies which make an unprotected 


310 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


girl’s life so hard to endure. You have talked 
with her, and your own honest nature has 
judged hers. I trust your impressions, your 
judgment.” 

“And what do you think I ought to do 
about seeking for her?” 

Amelia smiled as she answered with a 
charming frankness : 

“Well, you know, it is a compliment to her 
that you want to see her so much that you 
are willing to take any trouble to find her. 
If she does care for you she will be glad to 
have you find her ; and if she doesn’t care for 
you, you will be none the worse off for having 
found her.” 

“And what do you think of Charles Mor- 
gan?” 

“I don’t want to think of him at all, for 
I shudder every time I do. I remember with 
shame that I almost yielded to him that time 
he asked me to marry him. Maybe Miss 
Bertram knows him just about as I did ; only 
she is wiser than I, and knows enough to 
drive him away from her. If I were you, 
I’d ask her the plain question when you find 
her.” 

When Arthur finally left Amelia he felt as 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


311 


if the situation had been greatly eleared up; 
and the next day he was enabled to better 
endure the suspense of waiting, and was no 
longer haunted by the fear that he perhaps 
ought not persist in hunting for Helen. 

He threw himself into the work of the 
office with an energy that accomplished mar- 
vels, and also helped to carry him through the 
time until he went to the studio. 

He had hoped that the sculptor might 
have learned something in the meantime, but 
the instant question of Mr. Bernardo deprived 
him of that hope. 

“Did you discover anything?” the latter 
asked eagerly. 

Arthur explained how he had found the 
apartment vacated, and told what he had 
done and intended yet to do in order to find 
Helen. 

“Ah!” cried the sculptor, after listening to 
the end, “I do not understand it; I am fearful 
for that splendid girl. She is not one to run 
from a mere phantom. It is not you, Mr. 
Raymond, but that other man. There is 
villainy in this, you may be sure. She is the 
personification of innocence and purity. I 
would stake my reputation on that.” 


312 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Oh, surely!” cried Arthur, showing that 
no doubt had entered his brain. 

“You must find her to help her, Mr. Ray- 
mond. She is young, she is magnificently 
beautiful ; she is a victim. I can see it as if I 
knew everything.” 

These things were easy for the sculptor to 
say, and quite as easy for Arthur to believe, 
but they did nothing to make the situation 
any clearer; and to ring all the possible 
changes on the subject got them no nearer to 
a solution. 

But the more he thought on the matter the 
more confirmed Arthur was in his determina- 
tion to prosecute the search for Helen. He 
reasoned that Helen might not love him, 
indeed, but that she might need the help of a 
devoted friend. 

Dinner that evening was a gloomy affair, 
owing to the fact that Maude had left home 
for the hospital. Nothing was said on the 
subject, but the ghastly thought of the pend- 
ing operation was present in every mind, un- 
consciously, with them all, affecting their 
conversation. 

So it was a distinct relief to Arthur to ex- 
change the atmosphere of depression for one 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


313 


of energetic action. He left the house as soon 
as possible, and shortly before seven o’clock 
entered the stables on One Hundred and 
Twenty-sixth street. 

“Is the driver I was looking for here?” he 
asked. 

“Very sorry, sir,” answered the man in 
charge, giving Arthur an odd look, “but the 
man very unexpectedly threw up his job and 
has gone out of town. I don’t even know 
where he’s gone, but I’ll try to find out, if 
you like.” 

Arthur frowned, and a suspicion entered 
his mind that he was not being fairly and 
openly dealt with ; but when he questioned the 
man sharply, and was answered in a perfectly 
frank way, he could do nothing but accept 
the situation. He promised to reward the 
man if he would bring him into communica- 
tion with the truck driver, and then reluc- 
tantly left the stables. 

He walked up the block, and had turned 
the corner, having determined to go to the 
flat again, when the sound of quick footsteps 
behind him was followed by an exclamation 
evidently addressed to him. 

“Sa-ay, mister!” 


314 A STRENUOUS LOVER 

“Did you want me?” he asked, turning 
around and examining the speaker. 

“Was you lookin’ fer Pat Glancey, the 
truck driver?” the other demanded. 

“Yes. What do you know about him?” 

“I know where he is all right,” was the 
answer. “Them stiffs at the stable wouldn’t 
put you on to where he was because he pulled 
out o’ their stable this momin’, see? But 
he’s a friend o’ mine, see? and I’ll show you 
where he lives if you like.” 

“Indeed I shall be very much obliged to 
you,” Arthur answered eagerly. “Will you 
take me to him now?” 

“Sure! Come on!” 

Arthur followed him without a moment’s 
hesitation. It did not occur to him to be 
suspicious, although he naturally studied the 
man as well as he could as they went along. 

His guide was a young man, certainly not 
over twenty-two or three, shabbily dressed, 
and with a certain swaggering air that was 
not reassuring, but which, in fact, caused 
Arthur to say instinctively : 

“ How did you happen to know I was look- 
ing for Glancey?” 

“Iwashangin’ around the stable. I ain’t 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


315 


got no steady job, an’ I puts in me time 
there, takin’ me chances.” 

“Oh!” said Arthur, satisfied with the 
explanation, and at the same time struck by 
the thought that something more than friend- 
ship for the truck driver was involved in the 
young man’s conduct. “Let me give you a 
dollar for your trouble.” 

He drew a roll of bills from his pocket as 
he spoke, and, unconscious of the greedy, 
glittering eyes of his companion fixed hungrily 
on the money, pulled a dollar bill from the 
roll and gave it to him. 

“Thank you, sir,” the fellow said, thrust- 
ing the bill into his pocket and starting 
forward again. 

Arthur took no especial note of the streets 
through which he was led, for he was so 
familiar with the city in general that he un- 
consciously assumed that he would know 
where he was when their destination was 
reached. 

He did feel a sense of surprise, mingled with 
a touch of dismay, when his guide turned 
into a street which had the appearance, on 
that block, of being deserted. 

On either side of the street there were rows 


316 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


of houses, but the heaps in front of them told 
the story of their unfinished state; and even 
in the darkness, but faintly illumined by a 
distant electric light, it was easy to see that 
the houses were destined to the class known 
as cheap tenements. 

“Is it near here?” Arthur asked, breaking 
a rather long silence. 

“Yep; it’s on this block. His cousin’s a 
kind of night watchman, an’ some o’ the 
rooms is finished so’s they can live in ’em.” 

If Arthur had been at all suspicious he 
would certain have noted that the young man 
spoke jerkily, and in a nervous way, as if 
repeating a lesson he had not perfectly 
learned ; but the explanation seemed sufficient 
to Arthur, and he followed again without a 
word. 

When the young man, after going slowly 
and carefully down the block, studying the 
houses as he went, finally stopped in front of 
one a short distance beyond the middle of the 
row, Arthur said in surprise : 

“It can’t be here. This house is no further 
along than the others. Are you sure you’ve 
made no mistake?” 

“That’s all right, mister,” was the re- 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


317 


sponse, in a tone of growing surliness. “I 
ain’t makin’ no mistake. The room is on the 
back. This is the house. Come on in!” 

The uneasiness Arthur felt was altogether 
too vague to have any influence on him; so, 
after a moment of instinctive hesitation he 
followed the young m.an into the house by the 
lower door. 

He was struck at once by the odor of 
damp plaster, a proof that notwithstanding 
the lowness of the temperature the masons 
were still at work on the houses ; and he knew 
too much about building operations to believe 
that the house could be made habitable at 
such a stage of its existence in a cold winter 
month. 

“Nobody could live in this house,” he said 
sharply, “you must be rnistaken. I don’t 
hear anybody, and there isn’t a sign of a 
light.” 

“That’s all right, mister,” was the answer, 
“you’ll hear somebody soon enough, and 
there’ll be lights.” 

Something in the tone, something in the 
general situation, brought Arthur to an unde- 
fined but strong sense of danger, and he 
stopped short in the narrow hallway. 


318 A STRENUOUS LOVER 

“I think I’ll wait outside,” he said de- 
cisively. “Bring Glancey outside!” 

“Wait a minute!” the fellow said quickly, 
and then raised his voice to a louder tone 
and called: “Hello, Pat!” 

There was no answer, but Arthur, all alert 
now, heard faint footsteps and the soft 
rustling of clothing, as if more than one per- 
son was steadily approaching him from be- 
hind. 

“Who’s there?” he cried sharply, facing 
about. 

Instantly the silence was complete, and he 
was no longer aware of even his guide’s pres- 
ence. And now, at last, the thought of treach- 
ery flashed into his brain, and he was prepar- 
ing himself to meet it, when a sudden flood of 
light flashed into his eyes, followed by swift 
footsteps approaching him from behind, and 
then a blow upon the head that sent him 
reeling, half unconscious, against the wall. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


An ordinary man must certainly have suc- 
cumbed at once if he had found himself in the 
situation of Arthur; but he, trained to re- 
ceive blows and to measure their elFeets, was 
no sooner struck than he was on guard with 
all his wit and strength and cool courage. 

He staggered against the damp, freshly- 
plastered wall, his head ringing from the 
blow that had fallen on it ; but half-dazed as 
he was, he aeted on the experience of many 
a hard sparring bout and sought, first of all, 
to regain his full conseiousness. 

He realized that the blow that had fallen 
had been dealt from behind him, and he knew 
that as long as the light of the dark lantern 
illumined him he was at the mercy of his 
assailant. 

Instantly he threw himself at the light, 
striking out with short arm blows in the hope 
of intimidating if not hitting the man who 
held it; and that his object was partly at- 
tained was evidenced by the wavering of the 


320 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


light, and by the man’s oaths and cries for 
his companions to “down him.” 

In such fine physical condition as Arthur 
was, it was only a matter of moments for 
him to recover himself; and before those be- 
hind could follow up their first blow, he had 
grappled with the man who held the light, 
and had with ease swung him around in the 
narrow hall, so as to interpose his body as a 
shield between him and the others. 

The man struggled helplessly in Arthur’s 
iron grasp, at the same time letting the dark 
lantern fall to the floor and yelling hoarsely 
to his companions not to hit him. 

Arthur’s training had taught him the value 
of swift and sudden action at the moment 
when his antagonist was least on guard; so 
now, being in full possession of his wits, 
and quite recovered from the blow he had 
received, he rushed his prisoner before him, 
shaking him violently and thrusting him 
forward at those who stood in the narrow 
passage. 

How many might be there opposed to him 
he did not know, but neither did he know 
how soon others might attack him from be- 
hind. The door out of the house was in 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 321 

front of him, and he wished to get to it as 
soon as possible. 

Almost in an instant he felt the shock of 
the encounter with the men in front, but the 
groans and gasping cries of the fellow he was 
using as a sort of battering ram evidently 
confused the ruffians and gave Arthur his 
opporunity. 

He released the man he had captured and 
struck out right and left over his shoulders. 
Both blows landed and further confused the 
men, who seemed unable to realize the force 
and activity they had roused. 

Again Arthur grappled with the first man, 
and again he used him against his compan- 
ions. 

There were a few moments of confusion, 
Arthur pushing his man with one hand and 
striking with the other, and then a sudden 
retreat on the part of those in front. 

It was probable that they had leaped up 
the stairs and might be waiting to assail him 
as he passed ; but Arthur took the chances of 
that and rushed down the hall, swinging his 
prisoner violently behind him, and leaping out 
through the open doorway. 

Again in the street, he looked up and down 


322 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


for a watchman or a policeman; but there 
was no sign of either, and he decided to has- 
ten away from the spot lest its loneliness 
should tempt his assailants to renew their 
attack. 

On the impulse of the moment he set out 
to find the nearest police station, but had not 
gone far before he desisted. The police would 
ask him a great many questions and, as 
sometimes happened in such cases, might treat 
him as the criminal. 

Then he thought of returning to the stable 
to demand an explanation of what had hap- 
pened, but reflected that if they had any 
knowledge of the matter there, they would be 
sure to deny it; so he determined to give 
himself time for consideration by waiting until 
the morrow before doing anything. 

It was a deep disappointment to him to 
be thus turned from his search for Helen, 
but he was at once so troubled and so puz- 
zled by the trap that had been laid for him 
while in the prosecution of that search that 
it seemed to him that he must abandon it 
for the present. 

He did not mean to discuss the matter 
with any one, though it had occurred to him 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


323 


at once that Herbert might be able to advise 
him. He could not, however, bring himself 
to tell Herbert all that would be necessary 
to make him understand how he fell into the 
trap. 

He also thought of Amelia as one who 
would be interested, but he quickly put her 
out of his thoughts, too, and intended to 
seclude himself in his room, so that he might 
study the occurrence folly. 

When he was passing Amelia’s house, how- 
ever, he could not resist the desire to see her, 
and, the bruise on his head being but a slight 
one, he acted on the impulse and ran up the 
stoop. 

Afterward he was very glad he had acted 
on the impulse, for when he had been a short 
time with Amelia, he could not resist telling 
her-, greatly to her horror, what had hap- 
pened to him, and she at once had made the 
suggestion that he should employ a detective 
to look into the matter. 

“How clever of you to think of that!” 
he cried. 

“Oh,” she laughed, “you know it is out of 
the mouths of babes that words of wisdom 
come forth.” 


324 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“But,” he went on doubtfully, “I would 
not eare to let a detective know about Helen. 
I don’t think it would be right.” 

“Then don’t tell him. There is no need for 
him to know anything about her. Of course 
you don’t want him to know anything about 
her. Good gracious ! It would be horrid to 
have one of these men poking about one. 
Why can’t you say you were trying to get 
the address of a model? That would mean 
nothing to him and would keep Helen’s name 
out of it. The fact is, Arthur, I can’t help 
connecting Charles Morgan with this.” 

“To tell you the truth he has kept coming 
into my head all the time. I wonder if he 
can be so revengeful that he cannot forgive 
me for taking the championship from him.” 

“Maybe,” she said, with a funny affecta- 
tion of shyness, “he is a little vexed with you 
for taking little Amelia away from him.” 

“Why, of course!” cried Arthur. 

“ Or for both reasons,” she went on, laugh- 
ing at Arthur’s confusion. “Or maybe it is 
enough for him that he is base and can’t 
help hating you.” 

“Ever since I met him that night he has 
kept coming into my thoughts. It certainly 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 325 

was odd that I should meet him just where I 
did.” 

Amelia gave a quick, odd glance, but said 
nothing. She, too, thought it was odd, but 
she was not prepared to comment on it. 
The fact was that Amelia had begun to con- 
nect the mystery in Helen’s life with Morgan, 
and that made her secretly uneasy. 

On the way to the office on the following 
morning Arthur stopped at a private detective 
bureau, the chief of which was known to him 
through some work he had done for a client 
of his father’s. 

The detective was one of those men who 
would never attract a second glance in a 
crowd, so commonplace and colorless was 
he in appearance, so lacking in the keen 
alertness usually associated with men of his 
calling. 

He listened quietly to Arthur’s story, only 
occasionally asking a simple question, appar- 
ently to elucidate a matter of time or place; 
but when Arthur had finished he said to him 
in his even tones : 

“Do I understand that you want me to 
find out who attacked j-ou?” 

“If you please.” 


326 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Is it of any interest to you to know why 
you were attacked in that peculiar way?” 

“Naturally.” 

“But that may involve private history 
which you would prefer not to have known.” 

“Why, I think not,” was Arthur’s inno- 
cent response. “Certainly there is nothing 
I wish to conceal about myself, if that is 
what you mean.” 

“I didn’t know,” the detective said in- 
differently. “I thought from your conceal- 
ment about the young lady that perhaps you 
preferred that I should not go deeper than the 
identity of your assailants.” 

“Concealment!” murmured Arthur, flush- 
ing; “I did not know I was concealing any- 
thing excepting her name. Besides, I don’t 
imagine she can possibly play any part in 
the matter. That man Morgan may, but 
I don’t see — ” He stopped and looked un- 
easily at the unemotional detective. 

“Do you want me to be frank, Mr. Ray- 
mond?” the latter asked. 

“If you please.” 

“Well, I presume you are interested in the 
young lady you call a model, but I take it 
from what you have* said and left unsaid 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


327 


that you really know very little about 
her.” 

Arthur started indignantly to resent what 
the other had said, but remembered in time 
that his love for Helen and his perfect confi- 
dence in her did not in fact constitute knowl- 
edge. He wondered how the detective had 
guessed so well. 

“I don’t know a great deal,” he answered 
slowly, and then added a little defiantly, 
“but I have the highest respect for her; and 
nothing can shake my confidence in her.” 

The detective bowed quite calmly, as if 
Arthur’s confidence and respect were all one 
to him. 

“The point I wish to make is this,” he 
went on. “You have not told me all you 
can tell me. Some things evidently happened 
in the flat when you went there that may 
have some bearing on the case. Now, I 
don’t ask for any information you prefer 
to keep to yourself, but I do say that it 
may save me time and you money if you 
will trust me. And I may add that it will 
be better not to employ me if you do not 
trust me absolutely ; for if I enter upon this 
investigation I am sure to learn a great 


328 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


many of the things you are keeping from 
me now.” 

All this was so reasonable, and the man 
seemed so indifferent, that Arthur at once 
decided to relate all the circumstances; and 
even went so far as to give the detective the 
bit of tom photograph. The only thing he 
said nothing about was the glove ; and as to 
that, the tmth was that he had not had the 
courage to take it from its comfortable rest- 
ing place near his heart. 

The detective asked a great many questions 
about Helen, causing Arthur to protest that 
nothing must be done to give her the least 
uneasiness. “Let everything be abandoned 
the moment her peace or comfort is put in 
jeopardy,” he said earnestly. 

“I suppose you would still like to know 
her address?” the detective said. 

“Why yes, I think I would,” Arthur 
answered; “but I don’t want her spied 
upon.” 

“Nothing that you would object to in re- 
lation to her shall be done. I think there is 
nothing else I need to know.” 

“I suppose,” Arthur said as he rose to go, 
“you are hardly able to say as yet anything 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


329 


about the possible connection of Morgan with 
the matter.” 

“Oh, no.” 

“Shall I come in to-morrow?” 

“No harm in coming in, but it is rather 
soon to expect results.” 

“Well, I’ll step in as I pass by, and you 
can leave word in the outer office if you wish 
to see me.” 

He did inquire the next morning and the 
next, and on every succeeding morning for a 
week, receiving word each time that nothing 
had been accomplished. Then, at the end of 
the seventh day, he was ushered into Mr. 
Boyd’s private office. 

“You have discovered something?” he in- 
quired eagerly; for since he had, himself, ab- 
stained from seeking Helen he had become 
doubly impatient. 

“No,” was the calm answer. “I have dis- 
covered nothing really. I am on the track 
of the fellows who tried to trap you, though, 
and hope soon to make you a definite report.” 

“But Miss Bertram?” demanded Arthur, 
who in fact had almost forgotten the assault 
on him. 

“Oh!” was the mild exclamation, “I did 


330 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


find out that the truck driver knew nothing 
about where she had gone. He only took her 
furniture to a storage warehouse. The same 
day she called with a carriage and took away 
two trunks. I have no clue to her at all. 
She managed her disappearance very cleverly. 
Evidently she had no wish to be found.” 

Arthur winced at a certain dryness in the 
tone of the man, but refrained from express- 
ing any feeling. Others might think what they 
pleased of the mystery in Helen’s life ; he knew 
her and was certain that the mystery was in 
no way to her discredit. 

“Was that why you saw me this morning?” 
Arthur asked. 

“No, I wanted to ask you if you kept 
Saturday half-holiday at your office?” 

“Yes.” 

“And can you remain there with your 
father next Saturday afternoon?” 

“Of course.” 

“When will you be sure to be alone? I 
want the clerks and office boys, everybody 
but you and your father to be away when I 
come.” 

“ But my father knows nothing of the mat- 
ter,” remonstrated Arthur. “And there is 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


331 


no need that he should. This is a private 
affair of my own.” 

“You are mistaken, sir; your father is 
even more interested than you, I am sure. 
When I see you on Saturday I will explain 
why I say so. In the meantime permit me to 
remain silent; I am making sure of my facts.” 

“You ought to know,” Arthur answered, 
“and I suppose I would better let you have 
your own way; nevertheless it seems to me 
that it would be wiser to let me know what 
you have so far learned.” 

“Well, Mr. Raymond,” the detective an- 
swered, “you have engaged my services and if 
you insist, I must make my full report to you 
alone ; but I earnestly beg that you will trust 
me so far as to wait until Saturday, so that 
I shall be able to give you some definite in- 
formation, and also that you will accede to 
my wish to report to your father as well as 
you. I assure you you will be satisfied that 
I have done wisely when you hear my report.” 

It was impossible to doubt Mr. Boyd’s 
sincerity ; therefore, impatient as he was, 
Arthur forced himself to assent. He agreed 
to be alone in the office with his father at 
two o’clock on Saturday afternoon. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


If nothing has been expressly said of Ar- 
thur’s perturbation of mind during the ten 
days that had elapsed since losing sight of 
Helen, it is not to be supposed that he had 
waited in serenity and calmness while the 
detective was engaged in his search. 

He had discussed the affair with the sculp- 
tor, to whom he went daily to pose, but even 
more fully and confidentially he had talked 
it over with Amelia who was now his nightly 
confidant, and with whom he was now on 
those rare terms of friendship which can exist 
in their perfection only between persons of 
the opposite sex. 

It had seemed to him that he could not 
endure the suspense, and if he had known 
how to set about finding Helen he certainly 
would have done so in complete disregard of 
the detective he had employed. 

But he was quite at his wits’ end, and so 
could do nothing but go over in his memory 
the talks they had had together, recalling the 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


333 


tones of her voiee and the expression of her 
eyes, her smiles and gestures. And these 
recolleetions naturally had the effeet of in- 
ereasing the passionate love that had grown 
up in his heart for her. 

His father had notieed the signs of his in- 
ward perturbation, but had refrained from 
questioning him, faneying that it might arise 
from some new eomplieation in his relations 
with Amelia, or even might be due to eoncem 
over Maude, who had returned home from the 
hospital after a “most sueeessftil operation,” 
from whieh she was evidently going to be 
many months in recovering. 

Arthur was obliged to make some expla- 
nation to his father, however, in asking him 
to remain in the office with him on Saturady 
afternoon; and after baulking several times, 
finally told him the whole story, beginning 
with his chance meeting with Helen and his 
immediate love for her. 

Mr. Raymond, who had been very happy in 
the thought that a reconciliation had taken 
place between Arthur and Amelia, and was 
correspondingly disappointed in learning the 
true state of the case, nevertheless listened 
sympathetically to the end. 


334 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


But when the end came and he dis- 
covered that there was a subtle connection 
between the assault on Arthur and his 
search for Helen he looked troubled and 
gravely shook his head. Nor did he overlook 
the possibility of Morgan’s being a factor in 
the affair. 

“Arthur, my boy,” he said, “I am glad 
you have taken me so fully into your con- 
fidence. I shall not say a word against your 
loving Miss Bertram, who seems from your 
description to be a most estimable young 
lady ; but because I know I have not long to 
live and that my duties must devolve on you, 
I beg you to exercise the greatest caution in 
choosing a wife. Your mother and your sis- 
ter Maude, both invalids, will look to you 
to make the most of the business I shall leave. 
Of money I have not much — perhaps thirty 
thousand dollars, too carefiilly invested to 
bring a large income.” 

“There does not seem much of a possi- 
bility that I shall win Helen for my wife,” 
Arthur answered. 

“At least promise me that you will exer- 
cise more than ordinary care in the choice 
of one. I have a right to ask this of you 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


335 


since by my will you are left in charge of 
my estate. Say that you will marry no 
woman whose life is not as an open book 
to you.” 

Arthur saw at once that the asking of 
sueh a promise was like a blow at Helen; 
and for a moment he hesitated lest it might 
seem that he was eonsenting to an injurious 
reflection on her. The next moment, however, 
he realized that even to hesitate was like con- 
fession of a doubt in his own mind; so he 
answered firmly : 

“I promise you I will marry no woman 
whose life is not an open book to me.” 

Contented with this Mr. Raymond passed 
from the subject to others; and the father 
and son were engaged in a diseussion of busi- 
ness methods and ventures when Mr. Boyd 
put in an appearanee. 

He entered upon his business with them in 
a way that was as direet as it was unemo- 
tional, saying as soon as the conventional 
greetings were over : 

“Of course we are alone and eannot be 
overheard?” 

“Quite alone,” Mr. Raymond answered. 

“Will you please permit me to tell my 


336 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


story in an orderly way, so that I may miss 
none of the links? I shall be as brief as pos- 
sible.” 

“Tell your story in your own way, Mr. 
Boyd; I know you will waste nobody’s time,” 
answered Mr. Raymond with a smile. “I 
ought to let you know that my son has fully 
acquainted me with as much as he knows of 
the matter.” 

“Then I will proceed. When I first took 
hold of the case it seemed to me one in which 
I should probably encounter the usual difii- 
culties of an affair in which a mysterious 
female figured. Pardon my way of putting it, 
Mr. Raymond!” 

Arthur flushed indignantly, but refrained 
from saying anything. The detective went 
calmly on : 

“I had not gone far, however, before I 
discovered that, however important a factor 
the missing Miss Bertram was, there was 
something going on of more immediate im- 
portance even than her discovery, or the 
discovery of the identity of the man who had 
assailed you, sir; something that would in- 
terest your father even more than you.” 

Arthur’s father started at this intimation, 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


337 


and his haggard face took on an expression 
of keener interest. 

“Interest me?” he said. 

“Yes, sir; but it was not until last night 
that I got the last of the clews into my 
hands. That man, Charles Morgan, is at 
the bottom of all the mischief; and I may 
say incidentally that he is one of the most 
dangerous men I know. I think he has some 
cause for hatred of you, sir?” He turned to 
Arthur as he spoke. 

“ I was successful in winning the regard of 
a young lady he wished to marry some time 
ago; and I won the amateur championship 
at sparring also from him.” 

“Do you refer to Miss Bertram?” the 
detective asked. 

“No, another young lady,” answered Ar- 
thur, flushing under the keen glance of the 
detective, because he saw that he regarded 
him as a Lothario. 

“Oh, yes, of course,” murmured the de- 
tective, “you didn’t know that the bit of 
photograph was part of a portrait of Mor- 
gan.” 

Arthur started to his feet, but quickly re- 
sumed his seat. 


338 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“How do you know this?” he demanded, 
trying hard to preserve his calmness. 

The detective drew from his pocket the torn 
bit and a whole photograph, both of which 
he handed to Arthur, saying: 

“You will see. that the piece corresponds 
exactly. I think we may safely conclude that 
the young lady was pretty well acquainted 
with Morgan. Indeed, the woman and child 
in the adjoining flat recognized this as the 
picture of the man who had made several 
calls on the Bertrams. She said also that he 
was at the flat a few minutes after you that 
night.” 

“It has no meaning, father,” cried Arthur, 
huskily. “If you knew her you would believe 
it.” 

“If it has no meaning it will be cleared 
away,” said his father kindly; though in his 
heart he felt that Arthur had narrowly es- 
caped being the victim of an adventuress. 

“I confess,” said the detective in his un- 
emotional tones, “that I can see no connec- 
tion between the young lady and anything 
that followed. Indeed it is perfectly clear 
that she has taken great pains to hide her- 
self from Morgan as if she feared him. I 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


339 


know nothing more about her — neither good 
nor bad, subsequent to her departure from the 
flat.” 

“And you have found no clew to where she 
has gone?” Arthur asked half defiantly, as if 
he would show by his interest in Helen that 
he refused to share in any unkind suspicion 
of her. 

“None. I have made inquiries of all who 
have anything to do with her in New York, 
but only to learn that she had conducted her- 
self always in a most careful and exemplary 
manner.” 

“You see, father,” Arthur cried. 

“Indeed I am rejoiced to hear such a re- 
port of her, my boy. But, Mr. Boyd,” he 
added, turning to the detective, “in what 
way am I interested especially in all this?” 

“In no way, sir, but it was essential to 
clear away that matter before going on. I 
had to discover Morgan’s part in the affair, 
for I suspected him at once and supposed 
that I would find the solution of the assault 
on your son through an investigation of Miss 
Bertram.” 

“Yes, of course.” 

“Failing that, I shadowed the man, and 


340 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


in the course of doing so was obliged to spend 
many of my evenings in a certain gambling 
hell on One Hundred and Twenty-fifth street, 
the leading spirit of which is a man well 
known to the police and who calls himself 
Red Connor. It was through him that Mor- 
gan worked his scheme of vengeance against 
you, sir.” 

“Then Morgan was at the bottom of that 
attack? Have you sufficient evidence against 
him?” demanded Arthur. 

“No evidence at all. I know this, but 
could not prove it. Oh, no, Charlie Morgan 
is no such novice in crime as to be easily 
caught. Besides the assault on you sinks 
into insignificance in comparison with the 
more stupendous and at the same time more 
subtle plot to ruin your family.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Have you a confidential man in your em- 
ploy named Arnold?” 

“ Yes, that is the name of our bookkeeper.” 

“Do you keep close watch on him?” 

“Close watch on him!” cried Mr. Ray- 
mond, growing paler than ever. “No. Why 
should I? He has been with me since he was 
a boy. What do you mean?” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


341 


“I mean that he has been Morgan’s con- 
stant companion at the gambling hell; and 
that Red Connor and Morgan have been 
fleecing him.” 

“ Merciful Heaven !” gasped Mr. Raymond, 
“the wretched young man will be utterly 
ruined.” 

“Do you know if he had much money?” 
the detective asked, while Arthur listened 
with a sense of boding disaster. 

“He might have two or three thousand 
dollars.” 

“He has lost more than that at one sit- 
ting.” 

Mr. Raymond gasped for breath and 
pressed his hand to his heart. Arthur started 
up to check the detective’s revelations, but 
Mr. Raymond, having gained control of him- 
self, gasped slowly: 

“Sit down, Arthur! You say Arnold has 
lost more than three thousand dollars at a 
sitting?” 

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Raymond,” said 
the detective, with a face of concern, “I did 
f^ow you were ill, or I would have ap- 
proached this matter more carefully.” 

“It does not matter now,” was the 


342 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


gasping response. “Tell me quickly all you 
know.” 

“I have seen the wretched man lose twenty 
thousand dollars within a week. I did not 
understand this at first as he used no money, 
but only gave notes for the sums he lost, 
but this evening he is to make good some- 
how; and that is what I wanted to see you 
about.” 

“ The safe, Arthur ! ” Mr. Raymond gasped. 

Arthur ran to the safe and hastily opened 
it. Arnold had the combination as well as 
Mr. Raymond and Arthur; and it was only 
that morning that thirty thousand dollars’ 
worth of bonds belonging to a customer had 
been deposited there. And the bonds were 
negotiable ! 

Arthur swung the heavy doors open and 
was at the inner compartment where the 
bonds had been placed, opening it with trem- 
bling hands. His father and the detective 
stood by his side, watching eagerly. 

“Thank God! the package is there!” 
cried Mr. Raymond, sinking wearily into a 
chair. 

“Open it!” said the detective to Arthur. 

Arthur cut the tape that had been wound 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


343 


around the package, and opened it. The 
papers inside were worthless ; the package had 
been opened and robbed. 

“After him at once! Find him! We can 
catch him yet,” cried Mr. Raymond, as the 
dreadful truth was apparent to him. 

“Have no fear, Mr. Raymond,” the detec- 
tive said: “Arnold doesn’t move a foot with- 
out being shadowed. He will do nothing 
with these securities. But tell me why they 
were put there. Surely that is not a safe 
place for them.” 

“I was going to put them in a safe-deposit 
vault this afternoon.” 

“And Arnold knew that you would have 
these securities here to-day?” 

“ He knew everything. They belong to one 
of my oldest customers, who was called sud- 
denly to California to-day. I had the order 
to buy them for him several days ago, and 
was to deposit them to his order as soon as 
bought.” 

“It was Arnold’s opportunity,” Arthur ex- 
claimed. “You would have put the sealed 
package in the vault, and the fraud would 
not have been discovered for weeks or per- 
haps months.” 


344 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Don’t bother yourselves about Arnold 
or the bonds,” said the deteetive, “but over- 
haul your books and securities and see how 
you stand. I will communicate with the police 
and have the arrests made. To tell you the 
truth, Arnold has done all he harm he can. 
I discovered at once that he was using no 
money, but was depending on something to 
happen to-day by which he could reimburse 
himself. The fool actually believed he was a 
match for those sharks.” 

“In heaven’s name lose no time!” Ar- 
thur cried. 

“Arnold can do nothing,” the detective 
answered; “nor can he dispose of the securi- 
ties. If he has stolen nothing but those bonds 
you are safe. I care nothing for Arnold now, 
but wish to catch Morgan red-handed, so to 
speak. If I can bag that bird I shall have 
done society a good service.” 


CHAPTER XXV 


Mr. Raymond and Arthur were still working 
at the books when a messenger came from Mr. 
Boyd asking them to go to headquarters 
and confront Arnold and some other pris- 
oners. 

The other prisoners turned out to be 
Charles Morgan and Red Connor, both of 
whom vociferously denounced the police for 
their arrest and demanded instant examina- 
tion before a magistrate; but it was not 
until Arthur and his father appeared that 
Morgan suspected that he had been the vic- 
tim of a counterplot. 

Arnold, who had been put in a cell by 
himself, was completely broken down. The 
bonds had been found on his person, but he 
had refused to answer any questions until 
confronted by Mr. Raymond, when he broke 
down completely and made a full confession. 

By this confession Mr. Raymond learned 
that by one device and another is clients 
had been robbed of nearly twenty thousand 
dollars. It was not as bad as he had feared 


346 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


at first, but he knew that it meant that his 
own little fortune would be almost wiped out 
in making good the defalcations of his trusted 
employee. 

It would serve no useful purpose to follow 
in detail the legal struggle that followed. 
Arnold, it seemed, was glad to unburden him- 
self of the guilty effort he had made to get 
rich in a hurry; and he told a story, pitiful 
enough as to himself, but fairly hideous as to 
Morgan. 

He told how the latter had lured him on 
from step to step, insinuating one evil thought 
after another into his brain, until he never 
knew whether the theft he ’ committed was 
suggested by his own thought or by Mor- 
gan’s. 

He made every reparation he could and 
freely gave evidence against Morgan. His 
own sentence was made as light as possible 
because of this and because he pleaded guilty. 

Morgan, on the other hand, fought every 
step of the way; he obtained postponements 
and stays, and interposed every obstacle 
known to the law; so that it was Summer 
before a conviction was finally obtained for 
him; and even then a year’s imprisonment 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


347 


was all that could be dealt out to him in 
the way of punishment. Red Connor, the 
gambler, escaped altogether, nothing being 
proven against him. 

Arthur was glad when sentence was finally 
passed upon his arch foe, but for some time 
he had ceased to give the matter any per- 
sonal attention, the matter having gone at 
once into the hands of the district attorney, 
thus relieving him of eare or responsibility. 

This ,was the more fortunate that eare, 
responsibility and sorrow too in no small 
measure had come to Arthur outside of the 
court-room, but all in consequence of the evil 
machinations of that villain. 

Mr. Raymond had, from the first, thrown 
himself into the task of straightening out the 
tangle in his affairs. He was so manifestly 
unfit to do any sort of work that Arthur and 
the rest of the family had pleaded with him 
to rest ; but almost sternly he had answered : 

“No one else can do what I can. I must 
not die with my affairs in disorder.” 

He had not, indeed, died with his affairs 
in disorder, but death had overtaken him at 
the close of his task; coming suddenly and 
mercifully, as it seemed, though it was plain 


348 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


enough from his will that he had known how 
and almost when it would come. 

Everthing now devolved on Arthur, for he 
was left the business and was made sole ex- 
ecutor of the will ; this having been arranged 
with the consent of Mrs. Raymond and Ar- 
thur’s sisters. 

He had long since ceased to pose for Mr. 
Bernardo, though he made him occasional 
visits, always hoping through him to find 
Helen ; for through all the weeks and months 
that had passed Helen had remained the lode- 
star of his life. 

He knew very well that no one any longer 
had any faith in her. His mother and sisters 
and Herbert, too, knew all about her now; 
and they hardly disguised their distrust of 
her. Even Amelia could not hide the fact of 
her doubt. 

So Arthur, steadfast in spite of all, de- 
voted himself faithfully to building up the 
business which he felt was a trust for his 
mother and sisters, but never ceased to look 
for the one woman who fulfilled his ideal. 

And now, too, full of his faith in the nat- 
ural method of cure, and upheld in this by 
Amelia, who had made marvellous strides in 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


349 


health and physical development, as well as 
by Herbert and Margie, he sought out the 
sanitarium where he had learned Robert might 
be taken with a view to being cured of his 
terrible malady. 

The place was beautifully situated among 
the hills, about two hours’ ride up the Hud- 
son ; and it was evident to Arthur the instant 
he came upon the grounds that it was in no 
respect like the hideous asylums for the in- 
sane of which he had read such harrowing 
tales. 

The country, indeed, wore its smiling, 
early-Summer aspect, but nature had been 
aided to make the sanitarium grounds look 
exceptionally cheery and comfortable. 

Many quiet, well-dressed men moved about 
in the shady places, or sat reading under 
trees, or played games in the lawn; and it 
seemed to Arthur that he could distinguish 
certain stalwart, alert young men in their 
midst as the helpers of the institution. 

And Arthur was as agreeably impressed 
by Dr. Wendel, the head of the institution, 
as by the aspect of the place. He was an el- 
derly man, with a massive head, set on broad 
shoulders. He wore a full beard, which was 


350 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


almost white and was allowed to grow quite 
long. His hair was also long and white. He 
had great, over-hanging eyebrows, deep-set 
eyes and strongly marked features. 

Perhaps the thing that more than any- 
thing else impressed Arthur, however, was the 
faet that whether in the steady glance of his 
eye, the deep tones of his voice, or the com- 
posure of his movements, there was a sense of 
indomitable compelling force. 

He told Dr. Wendel about his brother 
Robert and asked him to visit him and give 
an opinion about his case. The doctor lis- 
tened attentively, asked some questions and 
looked at his watch. 

“I was going to the city when you were 
announced,” he said. “There is still time to 
catch my train. Let us go.” 

When Dr. Wendel was taken to the Ray- 
mond home and saw Robert, he shook his 
head pityingly, saying : 

“If he can be cured now, he could as well 
have been cured years ago. I do not know 
that anything can be done, but if you wish 
I will try.” 

“We do wish,” Arthur answered. “Can 
you not give us some hope?” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


351 


“ If I had not some hope I should not take 
him,” was the answer, “but I may not prom- 
ise you anything. In case he is restored to 
reason, you must bear in mind that he will 
be like a child and will have to be educated 
like one, excepting that his progress will be 
much more rapid. But remember, I can prom- 
ise nothing.” 

Mrs. Raymond, who had been opposed to 
having Robert sent away, and who had 
yielded at last only reluctantly, had been 
present listening intently. Now she spoke. 

“We have been assured that Robert is in- 
curable, so that we shall have no right to 
blame you if you do not succeed, I shall be 
glad to have you try, however, for I am satis- 
fied that you will be kind to him.” 

“As if he were my own son, madam,” was 
the earnest response. 

So it was that Robert was sent away to 
the sanitarium; and in spite of the conser- 
vatism of the doctor, hope prevailed where 
the afflicted young man’s presence had 
always been synonymous with despair and 
gloom. 

Indeed, Amelia’s extraordinary improve- 
ment in health, following Arthur’s, had greatly 


352 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


affected Mrs. Raymond’s opinions on the sub- 
ject of natural methods of cure, and she was 
even considering the matter of taking it up 
for her own cure. Only poor Maude was ob- 
durate and irreconcilable ; and she, alas ! was 
fast becoming a confirmed, peevish invalid. 

As for little Gertrude, to whom Arthur 
was passionately devoted, she was looked 
upon as a magnificent monument to physical 
culture methods; for she was never sick, was 
always happy, and could play from dawn to 
twilight without even a sign of fatigue. 

The members of the family, seeing Arthur’s 
passionate love for the baby, said among 
themselves that it was a very good thing for 
him that she was there to divert him from 
the love of which they did not approve, but 
which seemed to have completely gone out 
of his life. 

But if they fancied anything could divert 
his thoughts from Helen, they reckoned with 
a very poor knowledge of him or the over- 
whelming nature of the love he had given to 
her. 

The fact was that while he absorbed him- 
self in his work and was meeting with marked 
success in it, yet the undercurrent of his 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


353 


thoughts always was running on her. And 
when his work was done at the offiee he was 
constantly devising plans for finding her. 

But there was another matter, outside of 
his business, which occupied some of his leis- 
ure ; though he said nothing of it even to his 
family, lest they should blame him and call 
him sentimental. 

He had, in the first place, done all he 
could do to obtain a light sentence for Arnold, 
and after the latter’s imprisonment had gone 
to him and offered to do whatever he could 
for his family. 

Arnold, altogether penitent and very grate- 
ful to Arthur, had accepted the proffered as- 
sistance, and had the comfort of knowing that 
his innocent wife and children were being 
protected from the utter want and misery 
that must have fallen to their lot but for 
Arthur’s help. 

Employment had been found for the oldest 
boy in an office, and work at home for the 
oldest girl; so that with a small sum weekly 
from Arthur the family was able to feel itself 
beyond the reach of the sharp tooth of want. 

One day in midsummer Arthur received a 
letter from Arnold, asking him to visit him 
23 


354 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


if possible at the prison, as he had a com- 
munication to make, which he would rather 
not commit to writing. Supposing it was 
something concerning his family, Arthur went 
up to Sing Sing on one of the days when 
visitors were permitted to- see the prisoners. 

“It was not to express by word of mouth 
my gratitude for all your undeserved kindness 
that I asked you to come here,” Arnold said 
in a low tone, after an involuntary and fer- 
vent outburst of feeling, “but in order that 
I might warn you against the machinations 
of Morgan.” 

“Morgan! what can he do?” Arthur de- 
manded in surprise. 

“I don’t know what he can do, but he 
is a man whose evil mind is never at rest 
in working wickedness. And he hates you 
with a truly diabolical hatred.” 

“Well, I know that,” Arthur answered, 
“but I don’t see that he can do anjLhing 
until he is free from prison anyhow. And 
after that I think I shall be able to take care 
of myself.” 

“I know you are brave and strong,” the 
other answered, “but the honest are always 
at a disadvantage with the vicious. The 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


355 


trouble is that you cannot be sure that he 
is not working against you even while he is 
in prison. He told me the other day that he 
was preparing such a revenge on you as 
would make you wish you had never crossed 
his path.” 

“Well, thank you for warning me, but I 
don’t see what I can do beyond being ordi- 
narily careful. I certainly cannot keep myself 
in a fever of fear on his account.” 

“At least be careful. And above all be on 
your guard against a very beautiful young 
woman, who, I have reason to believe, is his 
ally and agent — his wife, in fact.” 

“His wife! He is married then?” 

“He told me so himself after a visit from 
her a few days ago.” 

Arthur would not have admitted to him- 
self why he trembled so violently that he 
could hardly articulate his words as he de- 
manded : 

“What does she look like? I ought to 
know that in order that I may be on my 
guard against her.” 

“I cannot tell you what her face is like, 
for I saw her only at a distance; but it was 
plain enough that she was young and beauti- 


356 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


ful, and one of the men here told me she was 
the finest woman he had ever seen.” 

“Tall?” asked Arthur in a tone he vainly 
tried to make careless. 

“Above the middle height I should say, 
but really magnificent in her proportions; 
and as she moved away after talking with 
Morgan I was struck by her queenly car- 
riage.” 

“Well,” said Arthur, with a feeble efibrt 
to laugh, “I shall be on the lookout for a 
magnificent woman. By the way ! does she 
come here often?” 

“She has been here twice to my knowledge, 
but may have come oftener.” 

“Merciful Heaven!” murmured Arthur, 
when he had left the prison, “why am I so 
base, so untrue to that pure and lofty nature 
as to connect her even by the most transient 
thought with this visitor of that scoundrel?” 

And yet he could not keep from his 
thoughts the haunting image of Helen mingled 
with that of the woman described to him by 
Arnold. Nor could he bring himself to tell 
Herbert the story related to him by the im- 
prisoned man. 

Over and over again he upbraided himself 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


357 


for being so far untrue to Helen as to fear 
to speak of the warning to Herbert ; and yet 
all the while there continued to run in his 
brain the train of circumstances as they 
would be sure to present themselves to Her- 
bert or to any one who knew them. 

There were the undoubted facts of Mor- 
gan’s acquaintance with Helen, his occasional 
visits to her at the flat, his claim that she 
belonged to him, his photograph in her posses- 
sion, a mystery in her life; and finally this 
visitor to him in prison, bearing such strik- 
ing resemblance to a correct description of 
Helen, and Morgan’s declaration that she 
was his wife. 

What wonder that Arthur felt despair in 
the vain efibrt to unravel the tangle! 


CHAPTER XXVI 


By request of Dr. Wendel, the members 
of the Raymond family had refrained from 
visiting Robert, contenting themselves with 
a weekly report from the doctor. 

This report said nothing more than that 
Robert remained in good health, refraining 
from any intimation, even, of his mental 
condition. But this was according to the 
agreement made with the doctot, who had 
at the beginning pointed out the impossi- 
bility of giving any positive information for 
a number of weeks. 

Finally, however, Arthur received a letter 
from Dr. Wendel, telling him that if he and 
his mother wished to visit Robert, there would 
be no objection to their doing so. 

Mrs. Raymond was too nervous to trust 
herself to go, and begged Arthur to go alone 
this first time ; and he did so, choosing a beau- 
tiful day in the late summer for his visit. 

He felt certain that he would find Robert 
greatly improved, reasoning that the doctor 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


359 


would have confessed his failure at once if he 
had been unable to afford any relief to the 
poor patient ; but he did not dare allow him- 
self much hope, remembering the years during 
which Robert had been a hopeless maniac. 

The old doctor greeted Arthur cordially 
when he reached the sanitarium, and smiled 
so cheerfully as he shook him by the hand 
that Arthur could not fail to cherish an 
augmented hope at once. 

“How is Robert?” he demanded, eagerly. 

The physician placed his hand on Arthur’s 
shoulder in a manner instinct with benev- 
olence. 

“I wish your mother had come with you,” 
he said, “in order that she might share with 
you the good news it is my privilege to im- 
part.” 

“You do not mean that Robert is well?” 
Arthur cried, a note of incredulity in his 
voice. 

“Perhaps,” answered Dr. Wendel, smiling, 
“you and I interpret that word well, differ- 
ently. I call him well because the tumor, 
which pressed upon his brain and caused his 
insanity is quite gone.” 

“And he is sane?” Arthur demanded. 


360 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“He is as sane as you or I.” 

“It seems impossible,” murmured Arthur. 

He sank into a chair quite overcome with 
the thought, which was as if it had come to 
him without warning ; for with all his prejudice 
in favor of the natural method of dealing 
with disease, he had never dared permit him- 
self to believe that his brother could be cured 
of his terrible malady. 

“Nevertheless it is true,” the doctor said, 
kindly. “He is as well though not as vigor- 
ous as you; you could not expect that. And 
of course, while perfectly sane, he has much 
the manner of a feeble-minded person, because 
he is mentally what he was at six years of 
age. You must bear that in mind when you 
meet him.” 

“Yes, I had counted on that,” Arthur 
answered. 

“And remember that he will not recognize 
you. You are less to him now than I or my 
attendants or those of my patients with 
whom he has been in the habit of associat- 
ing.” 

“And he will not recognize his mother, 
either?” 

“I should be amazed if he did. It is as 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


361 


if he had been taken away from her at six 
years of age and not brought back until now. 
She will be naturally as much a stranger to 
him as if they had not met during all these 
years. But come ! See him first and you 
will be better able to discuss his case with me ; 
for I wish you to ask every question that 
suggests itself to you, so that you will be 
the better prepared to care for your brother 
when you take him home.” 

“Let us go, then,” Arthur said, rising. 
“I am ready now to see him, though I will 
confess that I was overcome by the news 
that he was really cured. It is almost un- 
believable that one who has been in the dark- 
ness of insanity for so many years has at 
last been brought into the light of reason. 
But what a terrible arraignment this is of 
the ‘ regular ’ physician who immured my poor 
brother in his solitary room, with the threat- 
ening chains and straight- jacket as his only 
diversion ! ” 

“Ah!” answered the good old physician, 
shaking his head, “do not blame the doctor ; 
he was the victim of the world’s mania for 
regularity. Who is the most reprehensible 
individual known to society if not he who 


362 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


dares to be irregular? Society has no patience 
with the man who is not regular in politics 
or religion, or medicine, or an3rthing else. 
You employed a regular physician, and it 
was his business to be regular. He acted 
regularly and as his time-worn books bade 
him. Surely, he was guilty of no fault in fol- 
lowing regular methods. It is true he did 
not use reason in his treatment of your 
brother, but you must always bear in mind 
that you did not pick him out for any other 
reason than because he was ‘regular.’” 

‘‘It is true,” Arthur admitted; ‘‘I ought 
not blame Dr. Brayton for being what he 
was employed to be. The fault was ours in 
employing him. And yet it is difficult for the 
ignorant layman to decide for himself.” 

“Alas! that physicians make such a mys- 
tery of what should be in the main but a 
matter of such plain, common-sense that the 
most ignorant layman can understand. But 
the ‘regulars’ fight in vain for the perpetu- 
ation of ignorance among the laity, and the 
followers of the natural method increase 
apace. But there, in that group, is your 
brother; see if you can pick him out!” 

They had left the house and were crossing 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


363 


the spacious lawn when the doctor called 
Arthur’s attention to a number of men en- 
gaged in playing some game, 

“It is a very simple game,” he explained, 
“but it is one that calls for alertness of mind 
and body. We call it ‘base,’ but it is only 
a variation of the good old game of Puss- 
in-the-comer. ” 

And Arthur watching the game for a few 
moments as he stood there trying to recog- 
nize Robert, saw that there were bases suffi- 
cient for all the players except one, and that 
it was the object of that player to steal a 
base from one of the other players at the 
first opportunity. As all those who held 
bases were constantly changing, this was not 
difficult, though it required considerable activ- 
ity and made an interesting game for per- 
sons of undeveloped mentality. 

“These men were all insane at one time,” 
the doctor explained, “and some were raving 
maniacs when they came here.” 

“And all are well now?” Arthur inquired, 
his eyes flittering from face to face in a vain 
search for the one that was familiar to him. 

“Well, or nearly so. Do you recognize 
your brother?” 


364 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“I confess I do not.” 

‘‘Look at the young man standing near 
that tree.” 

‘‘Is that Robert?” 

‘‘Yes, it is your brother. No, don’t go 
to him; I will send one of the attendants 
for him, so that you may see him away from 
the distraction of the game.” 

Robert was accordingly brought to where 
Arthur stood with the doctor, and Arthur 
studied him earnestly as he approached. He 
could indeed now distinguish the features of 
his brother, but how altered ! 

The young man who now approached 
him with an active stride had a look of in- 
telligence as well as of health; and as his 
eyes fell on the doctor, a smile of affection 
lighted up a countenance that was really 
handsome. 

His skin was no longer ghastly and pallid 
as formerly, but tanned and ruddy in color; 
and when he was near enough Arthur could 
see that in place of the terrible wildness and 
vacancy that had filled his eyes once, there 
was a mild look of intelligence. 

Arthur fairly trembled with excitement ; 
for in spite of the doctor’s assurances, he 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


365 


had found it impossible to believe that he 
would find his brother entirely relieved of the 
awful malady that had until now cursed his 
life. 

“Dai'e I speak to him, doctor?” he 
whispered. 

“Speak to him, certainly, but do not try 
to awaken his memory by questions he could 
not understand, but might perhaps be dis- 
turbed by. I do not believe you could dis- 
turb him by any questions, but it is best to 
take no risk. You can judge by his way of 
responding to me how almost infantile his 
mind is. How are you to-day, Robert?” 

Robert was shyly watching Arthur, much 
as a child would regard a stranger visiting 
at its home. He smiled and nodded his head 
at the doctor’s question, but did not speak. 

“How do you like the game?” pursued the 
doctor. 

“Fun,” answered Robert, shaking his head 
emphatically and smiling broadly. 

The doctor asked a number of simple ques- 
tions which Robert either answered in mono- 
syllables or by nods and smiles, indicating 
plainly enough the perfectly elementary char- 
acter of his mental training, but also show- 


366 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


ing that he was now as sane as either Arthur 
or the doctor. 

Arthur, for mere gratification of speaking 
with his restored brother, asked him a few 
questions, but not knowing the limit of his 
comprehension, did not draw out very intelli- 
gent answers. 

But it was enough for Arthur that he was 
justified in taking to his mother the report 
that her eldest son was absolutely cured of 
his malady, and needed only time before he 
would be in complete possession of his powers 
of reasoning. 

“He will need to be educated as if he were 
still a child,” the doctor said, as they walked 
away toward the house, while Robert gladly 
returned to his play. 

“And will it take long to bring his intellect 
to maturity?” Arthur asked. 

“I can promise nothing as to that,” was 
the careful response, “but I have known cases 
of improvement so marvelous in its rapidity 
that it might transcend your belief if I were 
to recount them. You may be sure that with 
careful instruction he will make wonderful 
strides in learning. After he has been here 
a few weeks longer, you may safely take him 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


367 


home. Let him live as you have lived, so that 
his body will be in perfect order and I may 
almost say that you cannot push his mental 
growth too rapidly.” 

“You mean that if sufficient time is given 
to the body the brain will be in such condi- 
tion that it will do all the work given it?” 

“That is just what I mean. Now while 
we have a few minutes to spare, shall I tell 
you how I accomplished results which seem^ 
to you so wonderful?” 

“I shall be very grateful to you, doctor, 
for I am frank in saying that if I had not 
seen my brother I could not have believed 
that you had done what you have; and the 
more I marvel at the results the more I desire 
to understand how they have been accom- 
plished.” 

“At least,” said the doctor, with a smile 
of meaning, “there is nothing either regular 
or mysterious in my methods; indeed, the 
simplicity of them is such that few to whom 
you may tell of what has happened will credit 
you.” 

“I am sure of that,” said Arthur, “for 
when I try to induce others who are suffering 
from drugs or disease to try the method 


368 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


that snatched me from the doom the doctor 
had pronounced on me, they mostly smile in 
pity of my credulity.” 

“I may say of your brother’s case in the 
beginning,” went on the doctor, “that it was 
of such long standing that I had only slight 
hopes of effecting a cure ; but I felt also that 
if our methods would not do, none would, 
since if Nature refused her assistance there 
.was nothing else to look to.” 

“I understand you.” 

“You will remember that you told me 
your physician had diagnosed your brother’s 
trouble as a foreign growth in the brain.” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, my own diagnosis agreed with his, 
and that fact simplified matters for me. Fast- 
ing was plainly indicated, for my experience 
with fasting as a means of removing disease 
of all kinds has shown me beyond all possible 
doubt that a foreign growth of any kind can 
be absorbed into the circulation by simply 
compelling the body to use every unnecessary 
element contained within it for food. The 
results of fasting are very simple. After one 
has fasted for a few days, and all the attain- 
able nourishment that can be absorbed from 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


369 


that which remains in the alimentary canal 
has been used, the body then begins to feed 
upon itself. It first uses all those elements 
which are not needed to actually perform a 
service for the body, either functional or other- 
wise. The fat first disappears; after this all 
other foreign substances are gradually used, 
and tumors and foreign growths of any kind 
existing in the body will be drawn upon for 
its nourishment.” 

“Surely that is logical,” interjected Arthur, 
who had listened with an intelligence equal 
to his interest. 

“Yes, I think it is perfectly logical. Of 
course, where a foreign growth has become 
hardened, sometimes one long fast will not 
accomplish • the result, but where they are 
soft, the fast will usually cause them to be 
absorbed. We started your brother upon a 
long fast almost immediately upon his arrival 
here. At first he was very difficult to manage, 
but after he had fasted three or four days he 
lost all desire for food, and, though we put it 
within his reach on the thirtieth day of his 
fast, he did not eat until after having fasted 
thirty-eight days. At the conclusion of his 

fast he was very thin; he had wasted away 
24 


370 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


almost to a skeleton, but there was a gleam 
of intelligence in his eyes that had not been 
there before. I felt then that he was cured, 
but I did not wish to delude you with a false 
hope, so I waited until I could say with abso- 
lute certainty that your brother was perfectly 
sane.” 

“And that he is so I confidently assert,” 
answered Arthur. “ We can pay your charges, 
doctor, but we can never cancel the obliga- 
tion we are under to you. My sisters and I 
have a brother and my mother has a son 
where none existed before. Ah, that my poor 
father had lived to see the light of reason 
shine in his eldest son’s eyes!” 


CHAPTER XXVII 


Amelia iormed one of the eager, anxious 
group that awaited Arthur on his return 
home from the sanitarium, and, by general 
request, she remained while Arthur told the 
wonderful story of his brother’s complete 
cure. 

It was difficult for them to believe the 
tale he had to tell, and they plied him with 
question after question, searching for the 
weak points in his story, before conviction 
of his correctness came to them. 

To Mrs. Raymond it was like the story of 
a loved one come to life again; and when 
she had first doubted and then accepted, she 
began with eager joy to plan for her recovered 
boy’s future. 

Arthur explained fully what the doctor’s 
views on Robert’s education were, and they 
discussed the possibility of one of the family 
acting as his teacher so that no stranger 
might be brought too close to their private 
affairs. 

For one reason or another none of the 


372 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


family were suitable, however, and it was 
about decided that they must overcome their 
dislike to the employment of a possibly un- 
sympathetic stranger, when Amelia, who had 
listened in silence, said : 

“I can recommend someone who, it seems 
to me, is very well fitted for the position, 
and who will certainly be both sympathetic 
and discreet.” 

“Who is it?” Arthur demanded, quickly. 
“Anyone we know?” 

“It is a person you know very well; one 
who is a physical culturist as well as a fairly 
well-educated person. This person is a woman, 
and her name is Amelia Winsted. I know she 
would like to undertake the work, if only 
in gratitude for what this family has done 
for her.” 

“You, Amelia?” they cried, as Aicith one 
voice. 

She assented laughingly, but went on with 
deep seriousness : 

“Everybody thinks I was made just to be 
a little butterfly, but I wasn’t. I am a strong 
well woman now, thanks to Margie and Ar- 
thur, and I can no more be contented with 
doing nothing than if I were a man. I be- 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


373 


lieve, you know, that it is just health and 
vitality that make men do things better than 
women, and to like to do them. Anyhow, I 
want to do something, and here’s the very 
thing I am fitted for. Robert ought to be 
taught now by a sympathetie woman rather 
than by a man; don’t you think so, Her- 
bert?” 

“I do indeed. I believe his soul and his 
mind will expand and open under your in- 
fluence as it would not even under Arthur’s.” 

“But think of the care and responsibility, 
Amelia,” said Mrs. Raymond. 

“I have thought of both, and I am not 
afraid of failing either in my duty or in my 
ability to carry out what I undertake. The 
truth is that I am what I am to-day because 
of what this family has done for me, and 
I want to prove my gratitude. Take my 
part, Arthur!” 

She had risen and was standing in their 
midst, erect, robust, brimming over with 
vitality, and looking so lovely and winsome 
that Arthur was the only one of the group 
who did not feel a pang of regret that she 
was not to be his wife. 

“Indeed,” said he, looking at her with 


374 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


frank admiration, “I shall feel as if Heaven 
were with us if you will undertake Robert’s 
education. I know it will be irksome and 
difficult at times, but I am sure, too, that 
you will be more than repaid by the results 
you will obtain.” 

“Then it is settled?” she cried, eagerly. 

“But your father?” asked Mrs. Raymond. 

“Papa!” laughed Amelia, gaily, “why he 
does what I wish, not I what he wishes. Oh, 
I have him well trained, I can tell you.” 

They all laughed with her, for if ever there 
was a devoted daughter, Amelia was one; 
although it was true that Mr. Winsted sel- 
dom if ever opposed her. 

So Robert’s needs were most happily pro- 
vided for; and when, early in October, he 
came home from the sanitarium, he was put 
at once under the tutelage of Amelia. 

And now, to all outward appearance, 
poor Maude was the only member of the 
family who had any reason to complain ; 
for while she obstinately refused to try any 
way of getting well excepting through drugs, 
her mother had finally made a complete 
surrender of her convictions, conquered by 
Robert’s marvelous cure. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


375 


“I don’t expect ever to be well,” Mrs. 
Raymond had said, “but I believe in your 
way.” 

“Then why,” demanded Arthur, “do you 
say you do not expect ever to be well? It 
seems to me your belief can’t be very strong.” 

“lam too old,” she said. “Why, Arthur, 
do you realize that I am fifty-two years 
old?” 

“If you were sixty-two you should be 
made well,” he answered; “but you must be 
good and do what we tell you to.” 

“I’ll be more obedient than ever my chil- 
dren were,” she answered, laughingly, “if 
that will do.” 

And it did do so well that it was not long 
before even Maude was obliged to admit that 
she had never seen her mother so well; but 
characteristically she explained the improve- 
ment by saying it was due to the treatment 
her mother had received from. Dr. Brayton. 

But if Arthur had good cause for content- 
ment in the improved conditions in his home 
and also in his prosperous business, the fact 
still remained that he was unhappy. He 
could neither find Helen nor fill the void in 
his life made by her absence from it. And, 


376 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


if others could not prove their suspicions 
against her, neither could he justify his faith 
in her perfect truth. 

He was often tempted to employ the de- 
tective again in order to find her, but apart 
from the fact that the quest had already been 
pronounced too difficult, Arthur shrank from 
putting a spy on the track of the woman he 
loved. Perhaps, unconsciously, he was in- 
fluenced by the thought of the startling like- 
ness between the woman who had visited 
Morgan in prison and Helen. 

One day, however, he received a letter 
which decided him to go once more to the 
detective. It came in his mail one morning, 
postmarked from the general post-office, and 
read as if written by an uneducated person. 
There was no signature ; and but for its agree- 
ing with other facts and suggestions, Arthur 
would have put it contemptuously aside. 

“Mistur Arthur Raymind yood beter luk 
out fer truble. Morgin is in jale but he has 
trends outsid who wil doo yu yit. A trend 
of yoors rites this too tel yu to watch out.” 

Arthur put this precious epistle aside until 
he had attended to his other letters, when he 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


377 


took it up again and studied it carefully, with 
the result that he took a car to the office of 
the detective and handed him the letter. 

“Well,” said the latter, “what do you 
think of it?” 

“I don’t know what to think; that’s why 
I brought it to you. Arnold sent for me 
some time ago and told me to look out for 
Morgan.” 

“What do you want me to do?” the de- 
tective asked, eyeing Arthur keenly. 

“I am going to leave that to you,” was 
the answer. “I’m going to acquaint you 
with every development I know anything 
about; and I want you to help me.” 

The detective noticed how Arthur flushed 
and moved about uneasily before he could 
bring himself to begin, and he readily guessed 
that Helen was still the principal figure in the 
drama of Arthur’s life; but, according to his 
system, he suggested nothing, said as little 
as possible and listened, trying most to guess 
at the things left untold. 

In this case, however, Arthur told all he 
could think of, and answered fully all the 
questions with which the detective finally 
plied him. 


378 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“I don’t think,” said the detective at last, 
“that you are worrying much about the fear 
of being injured by Morgan.” 

“I don’t think I am.” 

“What you really want to know about is, 
who that woman was.” 

“I suppose so,” Arthur answered, hesi- 
tatingly. It was one thing to have a fear 
buried in his heart, and quite another to have 
it openly expressed ; and, in fact, Arthur 
had yet admitted to himself as much as he 
saw the detective meant to make him say 
openly. 

“You want to be sure that she and Miss 
Bertram are not the same?” 

“I don’t believe they are,” said Arthur, 
stoutly; “but I want the matter cleared up. 
More than anything else I want to know 
where Miss Bertram is, so that I may talk 
with her.” 

“Suppose I find that they are the same; 
do you want to know it?” 

“They are not the same; but if they 
should be, of course I want to know it. I 
don’t want a guess, however, but only a 
complete assurance. I might as well be frank 
with you, for I have no news to tell you 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


379 


when I say that I love Miss Bertram and 
have every faith in her truth and purity. I 
am not seeking to satisfy myself, but as long 
as the facts in my possession seem to impli- 
cate her in any disgraceful association I shall 
be unhappy. I want to know everything; 
I want to see her because I know that appear- 
ances, but not facts, are against her. You 
see, I go so far as to admit that appearances 
are against her.” 

“Nevertheless,’ said the steady voice of 
the detective, “what you want is not vindi- 
cation, but only the full truth? I must be 
sure of where I stand, and of what is ex- 
pected of me.” 

“I want the truth— the full truth. I am 
not afraid of it.” 

Arthur went away from the detective’s 
office feeling better than he had done for a 
long time. The fact was that appearances 
were so much against Helen that they had 
troubled him even though he had complete 
faith in her. But he had tried before to shut 
his eyes to the relation between the facts and 
Helen, whereas now he had faced the matter 
squarely and realized that the admission he 
had made had cleared the ground. Appear- 


380 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


ances might be ever so much against her, 
he believed in her. 

Without greatly concerning himself about 
the methods employed by the detective to dis- 
cover Helen’s hiding place and forgetful of 
the warning to be on his guard against his 
implacable enemy, Arthur went his way as 
usual. He never ceased to look for Helen 
wherever he was ; he took what part he could 
in the education of his brother, who improved 
physically and mentally in a marvelous way ; 
he prosecuted his business vigorously; he 
kept up his gymnastic work for health’s 
sake; and for amusement generally devoted 
himself to little Gertrude, between whom and 
himself there existed an almost extravagant 
affection. 

One afternoon in late October, when the 
days were rapidly growing shorter, he went 
over on the crowded East Side of the city 
to examine some real estate for a client who 
wished to invest there. 

He had looked over the property and had 
started to walk home, having left instruc- 
tions at the office for its closing. It was 
impossible to walk rapidly in the crowded 
streets, and he was going slowly, deeply in- 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


381 


terested in watching the traffic, when he 
stopped suddenly, stared eagerly for a mo- 
ment, and then with a cry of joy leaped 
across the street, pushing the pedestrians 
aside with so much rudeness that if he had 
not been so large and powerful he might 
have found himself in trouble. 

He had no intention of being rude, how- 
ever, but was quite unconscious of anything 
or anybody as he started in pursuit of a 
woman he believed to be Helen Bertram. 

He had seen only her back, but it seemed 
to him that there could be but one woman 
in the world with just that poise of head, 
that rhythmic movement of the body, that 
firm stride. 

Instead of taking the sidewalk, he ran 
along in the middle of the street, or rather 
in the gutter, heedless of his polished shoes, 
almost as heedless of the horses and vehicles, 
which he dodged mechanically, his eyes fixed 
on the woman with a passionate intensity of 
purpose. 

He caught up with her, passed her, looked 
back and sprang upon the sidewalk. Her face 
was turned from him, and she was talking 
to another, older woman who walked by her 


382 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


side. The face of her companion added to 
his certainty. 

He made his way to her side, his heart 
throbbing so violently that he had to give 
himself time to compose himself, which he 
did by walking silently by her side, looking 
down at her. 

At first she was not conscious of his pres- 
ence, or thought, perhaps, that he was only 
a passenger walking by her; then her com- 
panion said something to her and she looked 
around. 

“Arthur ! Mr. Raymond !” she gasped; and 
his heart gave a great leap, for her calling 
him by his given name in that moment of 
surprise betrayed something of the intimate 
place he held in her private thoughts; and 
besides, there was that in her eyes and in the 
tone of her rich voice which filled him with 
hope. 

“I have found you, Helen,” he said; “I 
have found you at last.” 

Her breath came quickly and she glanced 
around as if for a means of escape before her 
self-control returned to her and she seemed 
able to return his eager, passionate gaze with 
a calm, steady look. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


383 


“I must not, will not talk with you, Mr. 
Raymond,” she said. “Mother,” she added, 
as if struck by a sudden thought, “this is 
Mr. Raymond, of whom I have spoken to 
you.” 

Arthur raised his hat and bowed with 
profound respect. Mrs. Bertram eyed him, 
as it seemed to him, with a certain sort of 
wonder and fear, and inclined her head the 
least bit. 

“I hope you will be my friend, Mrs. Ber- 
tram,” he said to her, “and let me visit 
you.” 

“That is for Helen to decide,” she an- 
swered. 

Helen had evidently been thinking quickly 
and decisively, for she spoke at once firmly, 
and yet with a note of pleading in her voice. 

“Mr. Raymond,” she said, “you must let 
this be our last interview. I cannot have you 
call upon me, I must not prolong this inter- 
view now. I left my old home in order that 
I might the more easily break forever with 
all who had known me up to that time. I 
have a right to demand that you make no 
further effort to see me or speak with me.” 

They were in the crowded street, so that 


384 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


she was forced to speak in a low tone, but 
the intensity of her purpose was perfectly 
manifest. Arthur however, had not sought 
her for so long to leave her now with no 
more explanation than this. 

“Not see you or speak with you again?” 
he said. “You ask what it is impossible for 
me to grant, Helen. I have sought you since 
the day you were lost to me; seeking you 
everywhere, thinking of you by day, dream- 
ing of you by night, for I love you.” 

“No, no!” she cried; “don’t say that. I 
have no — But I will not prolong this inter- 
view. Come mother I Mr. Raymond, you 
will not follow me if I tell you that I wish 
you to go your way. I have a right to ask 
you to leave me.” 

“Such a love as mine, Helen,” he inter- 
posed, passionately, “gives the right to per- 
sist. I could not give you up if I would. 
Let me go home with you and there plead 
my cause. If you tell me after that I must 
leave you, then I will go.” 

“No, Mr. Raymond! You may not go 
home with me, and you must let me be the 
judge in this matter. If you — if you — really 
love me, you will heed my earnest wish — 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


385 


yes, my passionate prayer to be allowed 
to go without more words. The time may 
come — ” 

She stopped, trembling and agitated, as if 
her emotion had overcome her and rendered 
her unable to proceed. Arthur demanded, 
eagerly. 

“The time may come, Helen? Do you 
mean that the time may come when you will 
put aside the mystery which surrounds you 
and permit me to address you freely and 
frankly?” 

“Yes, yes.” 

“ But in the meantime, Helen,” he pleaded, 
pressing close to her side and trying to see 
into her eyes, “have you not one word of 
hope for me?” 

“I must say no more,” she answered, 
greatly agitated. “I have already said too 
much. You will permit me to go now?” 

“There are so many things I want to ask 
you,” he said. 

“I can answer no question. Oh, Arthur! 
can you not see that I am not a free agent. 
Be patient for a while longer and I will write 
you and tell you where you may see me; I 
will answer any questions you may ask. 
as 


386 - A STRENUOUS LOVER 

Prove your trust and confidence in me by 
letting me go now.” 

“One question only,” he pleaded, quite 
overcome by her agitation and by the appeal 
to his faith in her. 

“And then you will permit me to go with- 
out further hindrance?” she demanded. 

“If you will answer that question truth- 
fully.” 

“I will; be it what it may.” 

“You know I love you; do you love me?” 

“Oh, Arthur! I must not.” 

You promised me.” 

“Yes, yes; I do. Good-bye! Come 
mother!” 

She fled from his side, having cast one 
passionate look into his eyes. And he stood 
there in the crowded street, all the impor- 
tant questions he had been storing up for this 
meeting still unasked. 

But she loved him; her words and her 
eyes had told him so ; and he was profoundly 
happy, singular as were the circumstances 
under which he had asked and been answered. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


How strange and, in one sense, how un- 
satisfactory his interview with Helen had been, 
Arthur did not realize fully until he was nearly 
home, so full were his thoughts of the intoxi- 
cating fact that Helen loved him. 

For himself, he was perfectly satisfied, but 
he knew that if he were to tell to any other 
what had taken place he would be laughed 
at for not insisting upon answers to all the 
vexing questions that had grown out of the 
mystery in Helen’s life, in which mystery 
Morgan seemed so inextricably involved. 

One day and another went by, and Arthur’s 
restlessness increased with the days. He 
longed to see Helen again with the passionate 
longing of a lover, and he haunted the East 
Side of the city in the hope of coming upon 
her again as before. 

He wished to feast his eyes upon her; he 
wished to ask her some of the questions 
which, his reason told him, the detective 
would have asked had he been the one to 


388 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


find her. He wondered if he ought to tell 
the detective that he had seen her; he won- 
dered if he might not better tell the detective 
that he need no longer search for her. 

If he had not been so sure that the astute 
detective would scent the truth at once he 
would have told him to refrain from his 
search for her. He had never in his life been 
so uncertain and vacillating. 

Then, one day, a letter reached him at 
the office from Arnold telling him that he 
was certain something positive had been de- 
cided by Morgan. And the letter went on in 
this way : 

“I never saw him so full of fiendish glee. 
He told me nothing to give me the least 
clew, but his wife was with him again to-day, 
and when she went away he told one of the 
prisoners that on the morrow he was going 
to get square with the man he hated most 
in the world. And I know that that man is 
you. Do be on your guard!” 

Arthur shrugged his shoulders over the 
letter. He was not easy to alarm. He was 
certain that it was absurd to suppose Helen 
and the wife of Morgan had the remotest 
relation to each other. He crumpled the 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


389 


letter and dropped it into tlie waste-paper 
basket after hastily acknowledging it and 
thanking Arnold for his warning. 

The afternoon, as he had so often done 
of late, he went over to the East Side to 
wander about in his vain search for Helen. 
And, as usual, he finally turned his face to- 
ward home, changing his loitering, uncertain 
step into a long, firm stride that carried him 
swiftly on his way; but nothing could alter 
his dissatisfaction with himself which had 
been growing with the days. 

“To-day shall end it,” he said to himself, 
as he strode along. “Either I must trust 
Helen fiilly and wait with what patience I 
may for her to act, or I must admit that 
I do not and cannot trust her.” 

He laughed aloud at the very thought of 
not trusting Helen. 

“Trust her? Of course I trust her,” he 
went on with his thought; “how can I love 
where I do not trust? And love her I do with 
all my soul. They why do I haunt these 
fotd streets hoping to meet her and ask her 
questions each one of which is an evidence of 
distrust? No, I have done with it; I will 
come here no more for such a purpose. No, 


390 A STRENUOUS LOVER 

if I find her I will feast my eyes upon her, 
but I will not even speak to her.” 

His decision brought him a new peace, 
and it was with a lighter heart than he had 
carried in many days that he sprang up the 
steps of his stoop and put his key in the 
door. 

But before he could turn the key the door 
was snatched hurriedly open and he was face 
to face with his sister Maude, whose white 
face and shining eyes told him in advance of 
her words that something startling had hap- 
pened. 

“Gertie!” she gasped. 

“What is wrong with her?” he demanded, 
grasping his sister by the wrist in his excite- 
ment. 

“Lost! stolen! kidnapped!” she cried, 
incoherently. 

With a swift realization that Maude in her 
hysterical condition would be unlikely to give 
him the explanation her words demanded, 
Arthur stepped past her quickly and darted 
up the stairs to where, at once, he could 
hear the excited voices of his mother and 
Margie. 

He burst into the room and saw his mother 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


391 


and Margie alone there, their faces as well as 
their voices betraying the anguish of their 
minds. Both turned to him at once, both 
speaking, but Margie’s voice alone being 
heard by him. 

“My baby, Arthur! Did they tell you? 
Stolen! stolen!” 

She was making piteous efforts to be calm ; 
but the strain she was suffering from showed 
itself all too plainly. 

“Where is Herbert?” Arthur demanded, 
his mind working the more keenly and clearly 
that he saw the need that someone should be 
cool where all were distracted. 

“Out looking for her.” 

“How do you know she was stolen? Why 
do you say so? You must be calm, Margie, 
so as to help me. Tell me everything clearly 
so that I may know what to do.” 

He was in an agony of fear and appre- 
hension, for, already, in his brain was working 
the thought of Morgan and the letter of warn- 
ing from Arnold. What if this were the way 
that monster had struck at him? He held 
himself in rigid self-control. 

Margie pressed her temples with her two 
hands as if forcing herself to the calmness 


392 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


necessary, biting her lip the while ; then, with 
rapid speech, said : 

‘ ‘ Susie’ ’ — Margie’s little servant — ‘ ‘ had 
Gertie out in the park. Oh, I think she must 
have been inattentive, but she said she sud- 
denly noticed that Gertie was not with her 
and looked around. Away over by the drive 
she saw a lady carrying a child in her arms 
and stepping into a carriage. She heard a 
wail from the child, heard the door of the 
carriage slammed shut and saw the car- 
riage driven away at a furious speed. Then 
she looked all around for Gertie, until she 
was sure that it was she who had been 
taken into the carriage. Then she came 
home.” 

“Where is Susie?” 

“I don’t know. Looking for Gertie, per- 
haps. Herbert questioned her. Here she is!” 

The girl entered the room at that moment, 
her face bearing evidence of her distress. She 
shrank at the sight of Arthur, knowing his 
love for little Gertie. He questioned her 
quietly. 

“What kind of looking woman was it you 
saw?” 

“I only saw her back, sir; and all I can 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


393 


remember is that she looked like a fine lady 
and was straight and broad.” 

An anguished thought of Helen flashed 
into his brain, for it eame to him on the 
instant how the girl looking at Helen’s back 
might so describe her. 

“You heard the child cry out?” he de- 
manded. 

“Yes, sir; and I think it was Gertie’s 
voice. It has been coming to me more and 
more all the time that it was.” 

“Has anyone been to see the policeman 
who was on that beat?” Arthur asked, 
suddenly. 

“Herbert went at once.” 

“When did this happen? How long ago?” 

“Nearly three hours ago. It was just 
before dusk.” 

“I tried to get you on the telephone,” 
Maude said. She had followed him upstairs. 

Arthur groaned. He had been over on 
the East Side hunting for Helen. 

“Then Amelia took her carriage and went 
down to your office after you,” Margie said. 
“I don’t think she’s back yet.” 

Arthur heard the noise of carriage wheels 
in the street and sprang to the window. By 


394 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


the light of a nearby street lamp he saw 
Amelia follow a man out of her carriage. 

There was something familiar in the man’s 
figure, but for a moment Arthur could not 
place it in his memory. Then he remembered, 
and cried out as he darted downstairs to 
the door: 

‘ ‘ Boyd ! The very man ! ’ ’ 

Clever little Amelia had gone to the office 
in search of Arthur, and, learning that he 
would not return there, had had the inspir- 
ation to inquire for the address of the de- 
tective and to go after him. She needed only 
to witness Arthur’s hearty greeting of the 
detective to know that she had done wisely. 

“Come upstairs!’’ Arthur said at once. 
“Come, Amelia!’’ 

“Let Mr. Boyd go,’’ she answered, “I 
have told him all I know. I must go to 
my own house, where I left Robert. He 
is greatly excited over the loss of Gertie, 
but promised to remain with papa until I 
returned home.’’ 

“God bless you!’’ Arthur murmured, and 
then led the detective upstairs. He introduced 
him to the family in a few words, and then 
said : 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 395 

“Help us if you can! Get us back our 
little darling.” 

Prepared already by Amelia with a history 
of what had taken place, the detective took 
charge of the matter with his accustomed 
calmness and deliberation, turning to Susie 
and questioning her with a particularity that 
brought out more than the child herself had 
supposed she knew. 

Especially the detective gained more details 
of the woman who had carried the child, and 
at each word that Susie spoke Arthur, with 
horror, noted the likeness between the woman 
and Helen ; and he knew by occasional glances 
toward him that the detective was demanding 
of him to so note. 

Finally, after questioning each member of 
the family, lest some particular had been over- 
looked, the detective turned slowly and im- 
pressively to Arthur and asked him : 

“Have you anything to add to what we 
know?” 

Moistening his lips, so that he might give 
utterance to his words, Arthur told of the let- 
ter he had received that morning from Arnold. 

“You should have given that letter to 
me,” the detective said. 


396 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“I know it now.” 

“Is there nothing more?” the detective 
asked. “Have you not seen Morgan’s wife?” 

“No.” 

“Then I have. I saw her talking with 
him at the prison yesterday, just as I saw 
you talking with her over on the East Side 
a few days before.” 

“My God!” gasped Arthur. 

The detective went on with a sort of mer- 
ciless calmness: 

“Helen Bertram is his wife. Have you 
noted no resemblance between her and the 
woman described by this girl?” 

“My god! My God!” moaned Arthur. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


For a few moments it seemed to Arthur 
as if a lasting horror had entered his soul. 
He felt beaten down and crushed. He forgot 
even the little child that had been stolen 
away from her home. 

Then he remembered and he tried to think 
of Helen in the role of kidnapper. The thing 
was absolutely unthinkable. He started and 
looked about him. Everybody was staring at 
him. He felt as if an age had elapsed since he 
had heard the detective say that Helen was 
the wife of Morgan. 

“ It is impossible ; I will not believe it,” he 
stammered. 

“I have here a copy of the record made 
at the clergyman’s in Philadelphia,” the even 
voice of the detective said, as he drew out a 
paper and handed it to Arthur. 

Arthur read it through a mist. He was 
losing his hold on realities again. He saw 
Charles Morgan and Helen Bertram written 
on the paper, and he saw the seal of the 


398 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


notary who certified that the copy was genu- 
ine and correct. 

“There is some mistake,” he said, dog- 
gedly; “the Helen Bertram I know is a noble 
woman.” 

“Was it not Helen Bertram you talked 
with on the East Side?” the detective asked. 

“Yes, I talked with her and her mother.” 

“Is this her photograph?” he demanded 
with a curtness that was like cruelty, at the 
same time passing a photograph to Arthur. 

Everybody looked eagerly to catch a 
glimpse of the face of the woman who, as 
they believed, had played so sinister a part 
in Arthur’s life. He took the picture mechan- 
ically. It seemed to him as if they were en- 
gaged in hunting down the noblest and purest 
of women. 

Yes, it was a photograph of Helen; there 
could be no doubt of that. He held it firmly, 
striving hard to keep out of his face the fear 
that was growing within his breast — not the 
fear that she really could be proven a party 
to any crime or any base deception, but that 
in some strange way the toils had been so 
drawn about her that she could not escape. 

He wondered how the detective could have 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


399 


come into possession of that picture, which 
he would at any time have given worlds to 
possess himself. He knew the detective was 
watching him, but he silently eyed the photo- 
graph, trying to regain control of himself. 

“Is it her photograph?” the detective 
asked again. 

“Yes, but what does it prove? It is her 
photograph. Look at it, all of you, and say 
if it is the face of a woman who would play 
the part he would try to make her guilty of.” 

He handed the photograph to the one 
nearest him and turned then to the detective 
as if to challenge him to make good any 
doubts he had cast upon Helen Bertram’s 
name. 

“I showed the picture to Arnold, and he 
said it was that of the woman who had been 
to see Morgan. I showed it to several of the 
prison authorities and they all recognized it. 
But the real question that concerns us is not 
whether or not this is a photograph of the 
lawful wife of Charles Morgan, but whether or 
not it was she who has stolen the child.” 

“And you say it was she?” Arthur queried 
almost fiercely. 

“All the circumstances point to her,” the 


400 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


detective answered firmly, “but if you wish 
that I should not harbor such a suspicion I 
will retire from the case at once.” 

“No, no!” was the cry from all. 

“No,” said Arthur, proudly. “I am not 
afraid of what may happen. Let what may 
come, little Gertie must be found, and at 
once. That Morgan has something to do 
with the matter I am sure, but I do not 
believe that Helen has had. You will let me 
have the photograph?” 

“Yes, you may have it. And now, if I am 
to take charge of the affair, I shall need some 
help from you. Will you assist me?” 

“It is needless to ask; command me in 
any way and every way.” 

“Then come with me at once.” He turned 
to the others and said : “Do not be disturbed 
if Mr. Raymond does not return to-night. If 
we learn anything of importance you shall be 
communicated with instantly.” 

With these words, and accompanied by 
Arthur, he hurriedly left the house and led 
Arthur to the park, where it would be possible 
for them to confer together without being 
overheard or noticed. 

“Mr. Raymond,” he said, in his curt waj'. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


401 


“it is important that you should follow up 
one clew while I follow another.” 

“Give me my orders.” 

“Here, on this slip of paper, is the address, 
on the East Side, of Mrs. Bertram and her 
daughter. Go there and find out what you 
can of them.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried Arthur, “ and you will trust to 
my impartiality, then?” 

“No one has a greater stake in this than 
you,” the detective answered. “I could not 
follow up this clew as well as your interest 
will make you.” 

“Good, I will go.” 

“One moment! If, as I think may be the 
case, you learn nothing to further our search 
for the child, go from there to the other ad- 
dress, which you will see on the paper, and 
which is that of a woman with whom Charles 
Morgan once boarded.” 

“And who has some knowledge of his wife, 
I presume,” Arthur said, suspecting at once 
what the detective sought to accomplish by 
sending him about as he was doing. 

“Who has some knowledge of his wife, for 
it was to her house that he took his bride on 
his return from Philadelphia.” 

26 


402 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Very well,” Arthur answered, “I will go, 
but I do not see how what I am set at ean 
in any way enlighten us as to Gertie’s where- 
abouts.” 

“Nor do I, but to either of those places 
the kidnapper may have gone. At any rate, 
they are places that must be visited; and I 
must have you as well satisfied as I am that 
Helen Bertram and Mrs. Charles Morgan are 
the same, for I am willing to stake my repu- 
tation on it that we shall find the child when 
we find Helen Bertram.” 

Arthur turned away with a pang in his 
heart, in spite of his courage and his faith in 
Helen. He knew the detective well enough to 
be sure that he was not one to say so much 
without good ground for it ; and yet he could 
not, would not, entertain the horrible thought 
that she who had been so noble and pure in 
all she had done and said when in his com- 
pany could be the depraved criminal necessary 
to play the part she had done if guilty of this 
act. 

“And after that?” he asked in a low tone. 

“After that, report to me at my office. I 
shall be there by the time you are ready to 
come. By the way, if you haven’t had your 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


403 


supper you’d better go in and get a bite at 
some restaurant. There may be some quick 
work for us to do to-night.” 

Arthur had no desire for food, but he knew 
he would be better for eating something ; and, 
besides, he wished to collect his ideas before 
starting out on what might be an expedition 
fraught with terrible misery for him. 

And when he was away from the presence 
of the detective he felt his confidence in Helen 
return, and in the same proportion his distress 
for Gertrude to augment. 

It seemed as if he could not sit calmly 
eating, when that little, loving child might 
be suffering in the hands of her cruel captors ; 
and, indeed, he ate but little and left the 
restaurant he had entered with more than 
half the food untouched. 

He took the elevated cars down to Grand 
street and the street cars across to the East 
Side, and on the way he divided his time 
between studying the strong, beautiful face of 
the woman he loved and in anticipating her 
greeting of him when she should open the 
door of her rooms to him. 

He had promised not to seek her, and now 
he was doing so ; but he had decided to tell 


404 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


her the whole truth about the suspicions of 
the detective, so that she would understand, 
and he even hoped she would make it the 
occasion of lifting the veil of mystery that 
surrounded her life. 

“It will serve to show her,” he said to 
himself, as at last he approached the 
address the detective had given him, “that 
it is unwise to* lead the sort of life she 
does.” 

The house had once been the abode of 
some well-to-do person, who had been crowded 
out of that quarter by the encroachments of 
the tenements, which now filled most of the 
block. 

The basement of the house was used as a 
grocery store, and the upper part was evi- 
dently let out in apartments, as was indicated 
by a sign fastened to the house near the 
door. 

The door was opened in response to his 
ring by a neatly dressed German woman, 
whose face bore such an expression of simple 
honesty that he felt at once that he would 
have no difficulty in obtaining straightfor- 
ward treatment from her. 

“ Come inside by my husband,” the woman 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


405 


answered, in response to his request to see 
Miss Bertram. 

It seemed to Arthur that the woman had 
looked at him with an air of severity, and as 
he followed her into the rooms on the first 
floor a feeling of uneasiness took possession 
of him. He wondered why she had not said 
something about Helen, instead of asking him 
to see her husband. 

The husband, a stout, stolid-looking Ger- 
man, was smoking his pipe when Arhur was 
presented to him as a “ehentleman who 
vants to speak mit Miss Bertram.” 

“Dere ain’t no Miss Bertram in the house, 
already,” the man said, taking his pipe out 
of his mouth and looking solemnly at Arthur. 
“Vot you vant to see mit her?” 

“I am a friend of hers.” 

The man stared at him in silence for a few 
moments, then said with a sudden heat : 
“I don’t like such pizness. She ain’t got no 
friends for six months already; den chust all 
at Yunst she gets some friends ven she leaves 
de house. It’s funny pizness, ain’t it?” 

“She has gone?” Arthur cried in dismay. 

“Dis morning. She pays me de month, 
she takes her furniture und she goes. Den 


406 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


begins her friends to come. Vot’s de matter? 
You tell me.” 

The worthy man evidently felt as if he had 
a grievance, but Arthur, intent on his quest, 
and too disturbed by the sudden departure 
and by the plain mystery of this new move- 
ment of Helen’s, went on with his question- 
ing. 

“Why did she leave?” he asked. 

“Why don’t you tell me dat already? I 
don’t like peoples to leave mine house like 
dat.” 

“Didn’t she give any reason for going?” 

“Nein.” 

“How many have called to see her since 
she went away?” 

“ You make three already,” the woman in- 
terposed, seeing her husband speechless with 
indignation. 

With a sudden hope that there might be 
some mistake in the person they were talking 
about, Arthur drew the photograph from his 
pocket and showed it to the woman, saying : 

“Is this the young lady who lived in your 
rooms?” 

“Sure.” 

“Ach!” cried the man, with the gesture of 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


407 


one who discovers a new wrong done him, 
“all her new friends have de pictures of her, 
too.” 

“The others showed you pictures of her?” 
Arthur demanded, quickly. 

“Vun of dem,” the woman answered; and 
then, with a close examination of the photo- 
graph, “it’s de same picture.” 

“What did the man look like?” Arthur 
asked. 

“He was shmall, and he ask questions und 
look at de rooms, und all de time he says 
noddings.” 

The description of the visitor as one who 
asked questions and said nothing, although 
absurd, yet described the detective so well 
that Arthur at once described him in his 
own words and discovered that it was he 
who had been there. And instantly it flashed 
through his brain that Mr. Boyd had sent 
him there in order that he might convince 
himself of Helen’s complicity with the kid- 
napping or of her identity with Morgan’s 
wife. 

The confidence of the detective in Helen’s 
guilt hung like a pall over Arthur, although 
his trust in her was not shaken. He could not 


408 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


rid himself of the gloom which the detective’s 
confidence inspired, but he was all the more 
determined to pursue his investigations thor- 
oughly in order to be able to justify his own 
faith in her. 

He plied the German couple with questions 
until at last they refused to say anything 
more, averring that they had already told 
him several times over all they knew. 

The substance of what he learned was that 
Helen and her mother had led a most quiet 
and exemplary existence during the months 
they had lived there, going out very little 
and working hard at sewing; that they had 
had absolutely no visitors during all that 
time, but had had three since they had left. 

Arthur could make out that Mr. Boyd had 
been one of the visitors, but he could get no 
clew to the identity of the other, excepting 
that he was well dressed, wanted to pay them 
for telling about Helen and had red hair and 
small eyes. 

When he asked if they had given this in- 
formation to the other caller, they answered 
yes, so that he knew that the detective had 
gathered all there was to be known. 


CHAPTER XXX 


Profoundly discouraged, but with un- 
abated faith in Helen, Arthur left the house 
after first visiting the rooms occupied by 
Helen and her mother. It is needless to say 
that he had no hope of finding anything 
there that had escaped the notice of the detec- 
tive. He went into the rooms to satisfy a 
lover’s longing to look upon the bare walls 
that had once encompassed the object of his 
passion. 

He offered the woman some money to com- 
pensate her for the trouble she had been at in 
his behalf, but she refused it peremptorily ; so 
he bade her good night and descended the 
old-fashioned stoop to the sidewalk. 

He was in such a perturbed condition of 
mind that he was not very observant of what 
was going on about him, but, as is often the 
case with persons who are preoccupied, he had 
a sense of being aware of a man standing on 
the opposite side of the street, lurking in the 
shadow. 


410 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


But as the street was full of people, either 
hurrying along or loitering, he gave no further 
attention to the man in question, but slowly 
and moodily went his way. 

Excepting for the mystery of Helen’s sud- 
den departure, there had come nothing to 
Arthur’s knowledge yet to make him change 
his mind in regard to the woman he loved. 
He was troubled at the thought of the 
mystery in her life, but he was as far as ever 
from suspecting her of being either the wife of 
Morgan or the kidnapper of little Gertrude. 

He walked slowly, trying to unravel the 
tangle his life had fallen into, but always 
unable to lay firm hold on one of the skeins. 
He could not make out even how he was fur- 
thering the discovery of little Gertrude by 
what he was doing. 

He angrily wondered if the detective might 
not be making some foolish use of him, and 
he was tempted to give up his visit to the 
other address, and go at once to the detective. 
Then his better judgment told him that Mr. 
Boyd was hardly likely to do anything at 
such a time without a good motive. 

He threw off his indecision suddenly and 
started off rapidly for the nearest line of cars. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


411 


for the second address was on the West Side 
not far from the lower end of Central Park. 

Several times he looked back with an un- 
easy sense of being followed, but as he saw no 
one having the appearance of being in pursuit 
of him, he dismissed the notion and forgot it. 

It was nearly ten o’clock when he reached 
the house he sought, and the street was as 
quiet as the one on the East Side had been 
noisy. In fact, he saw no one but a man on 
the other side of the street, some distance 
behind him, who had made his presence known 
by whistling one of the popular tunes of the 
day. 

“I would like to see Mrs. Fenton,” Arthur 
said to the neat maid who opened the door 
to him; and the girl led him into a com- 
fortable parlor. 

When the maid had gone with his card to 
seek her mistress, Arthur looked about the 
room in search of something to betray the 
character of the occupants, but he saw at 
once that he was in just such an apartment 
as might be found in any one of a hundred 
boarding-houses of the better class in New 
York. 

And when Mrs. Fenton entered with his 


412 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


card in her hand, he saw that she was one of 
a class— a boarding-house keeper from her 
worn, tired face to her neat but shabby gown. 

“I hope you will forgive me for troubling 
you, Mrs. Fenton,” he said, rising as she 
entered. “I came to make some inquiries 
about a Mr. Charles Morgan, who I am told 
once boarded here with his wife.” 

“Sit down, please,” she said; “yes, he was 
here for a short time. He was arrested after- 
ward and sent to prison, I think.” 

“He is in Sing-Sing now. Do you remem- 
ber his wife?” 

“No one would be likely to forget her, 
sir. I hope the poor girl is in no trouble 
through her husband’s misdoing.” 

“ None that I know of. Would you remem- 
ber her face?” 

“Perfectly.” 

“Will you describe her to me?” 

“Her face?” 

“Her general appearance.” 

“She was above middle height, I should 
say, but the most splendid woman I ever 
looked at; she had such wonderfiil poise and 
grace, and walked like a queen rather than 
like an ordinary woman. She said that was 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 413 

because she was so well developed museu- 
larly.” 

“Oh, heaven!” Arthur murmured. 

“As for her face — well, it was not the most 
beautiful I ever saw, perhaps, but it was one 
that grew upon you until it seemed that it 
must be the most womanly, the truest and, 
yes, the fairest face in the world. And such 
strength of character! Ah, they made a fine 
couple.” 

With a throbbing heart, and with a re- 
luctance that shamed him, Arthur drew the 
photograph from his pocket and handed it 
to her. 

“Do you see any resemblance?” he asked, 
huskily. 

Mrs. Fenton’s face lighted up the instant 
she looked at the picture, and the words 
came spontaneously : 

“Oh, yes, that is Mrs. Morgan; no one 
could make any mistake about that. I am 
sure this must have been taken near the 
time she married him. In fact, I was talking 
about this very picture with a friend of hers 
who is boarding with me now, and who was 
showing it at the table as the most beautiful 
woman he had ever seen in — ” 


414 A STRENUOUS LOVER 

“A friend of hers boarding here now?” 
cried Arthur, scenting a new and disagreeable 
discovery which the detective had prepared 
for him. “What is his name?” 

“Mr. Boyd.” 

It was the detetive himself Arthur shut 
his jaws hard together to keep back the ex- 
clamation that leapt to his lips. 

“ Oh ! ” he murmured when he could control 
himself, “Has he boarded here for a long 
time?” • 

“Only about a week. It came out almost 
the first day he was here that he knew her, 
and I asked him all about her.” 

Arthur could see the detective leading the 
good woman on until he had wormed every 
detail of Mrs. Morgan’s life there out of her. 
He knew now for a certainty that he had 
been sent to these two places for no other 
purpose than to convince him that Helen was 
the wife of Morgan. 

In the face of the evidence, however, he 
clung obstinately to the belief that there was 
some hideous mistake that would be revealed 
as soon as Helen could be told of the sus- 
picion she lay under. 

He made no efibrt to find out anything 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


415 


more, but with the first excuse that sug- 
gested itself to him rose and left the house. 

“Now I will go see him,” he muttered, 
and strode angrily toward Ninth avenue, 
where he took a Broadway car. 

In walking through the street he had again 
that uneasy sense of being followed that he 
had had on leaving the house on the East 
Side; but had been unable to see anybody 
when he looked behind him, and had again 
dismissed the notion. 

As he sat in the car, however, he chanced 
to look toward the rear end just as the car 
was passing a powerful electric light, and he 
saw a face that was familiar to him, though 
for the moment he could not place it. He 
looked again, but the man’s back was turned 
toward him and he could not see his face. 

It was rather mechanically than of design 
that he began to puzzle out what it was in 
the face that was familiar, but presently it 
came to him with a rush of memory. It was 
the face of the man who had been tried with 
Morgan for complicity in the robbery of his 
father— Red Connor. 

“Red Connor, Red Connor,” he murmured 
to himself; and again there was a flash of 


416 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


memory and he recalled the words of the Ger- 
man woman: “Red hair and small eyes.” 
It was thus she had described one of the men 
who had come to see Helen that day. 

Could it be that Red Connor had really 
visited that house in search of Helen? What 
could he want with her? He was Morgan’s 
friend. Arthur felt a clutching at his heart. 

Then he remembered his feeling of being 
followed, and wondered if that man had been 
shadowing him. He wondered how he could 
find out, hoping that he had wit enough to 
catch the fellow if he really were shadowing 
him. 

He stopped the car at Forty-seventh street 
and walked briskly toward the West Side as 
if intent on reaching some place with the least 
possible loss of time. Some building opera- 
tions were going on on the street with small 
construction sheds lining the sidewalk. 

He slipped behind one of these and waited, 
eagerly. For a little while he heard nothing ; 
then a swift, light footfall, and as he peered 
out he could see a slight, lithe figure coming 
rapidly toward him. He could not be sure, 
but he believed it was Red Connor. 

He stepped out from his concealment and 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


417 


blocked the way. The advancing man gave a 
start and would have turned across the street, 
but Arthur’s strong hand was on his shoulder, 
holding him as in a vise. 

“You were following me,” he said sternly. 

“You’re a liar,” was the response. “Let 
go of me, or I’ll put daylight through you; 
or to be precise, electric light.” 

But Arthur was sure of his man now ; he 
remembered the peculiar voice. He caught 
him by the wrists and forced him to go with 
him further down the block to where there was 
enough light to distinguish his features by. 

“You are Red Connor,” he said. 

“Yes, I’m Red Connor, but that’s no rea- 
son why you should lay hands on me. I may 
as well tell you, Mr. Raymond, that I am a 
bad man to mix up with.” 

“I’ve met bad men before,” Arthur an- 
swered dryly. “I’ll thank you to come with 
me. You ought to be glad to know where 
I’m going to end my night’s wandering; you 
ought to be tired of following me, too.” 

“You’re a bigger man than I am,” said 
Red Connor coolly, “and I shall have to go 
with you until we find a policeman.” 

“Yes, I think so; and after that too, if I’m 

27 


418 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


not mistaken, I don’t believe you will care to 
make your explanations at the sergeant’s 
desk, though.” 

“What explanations?” 

“What were you doing at the house of 
Miss Bertram?” 

“Miss Bertram? Oh, you mean Mrs. Mor- 
gan, I suppose. Why shouldn’t I visit her? 
Is there any harm in going to see the wife of 
a fnend?” 

“Why do you say she is his wife? You 
know that is not the truth,” Arthur said, 
huskily. 

“Isn’t it? Oh! Well, I thought she was 
his wife. He said she was, anyhow, and I 
supposed from her going to see him in prison 
that she was; but if you say she isn’t, of 
course that settles it.” 

The man’s manner was indescribably inso- 
lent and sneering, and his words seemed 
crammed with innuendo. Arthur’s grasp on 
the slender wrists tightened fiercely. 

“If you don’t mind,” the gambler said 
coolly, “I’d like a little less pressure. I know 
you’re strong. Thank you” — as Arthur re- 
laxed his grasp — “that is better. Now, will 
you be good enough to say what it is you 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


419 


want of me? I have a little business on hand 
this evening, and would like to attend to it.” 

“Do you mean to follow me quietly?” 
Arthur demanded. 

“Follow you? Oh yes.” 

“I mean go with me; I shall not release 
you.” 

“If I refuse?” 

“Then I shall use force, or hand you over 
to a policeman.” 

“Have you a warrant, then, or some 
charge to make against me?” the gambler 
asked ironically. 

“I guess there won’t be need of any 
specific charge if I tell a policeman who and 
what you are. And when it comes to the 
sergeant my friend, Mr. Boyd, will know what 
to say.” 

“Oh, the detective? Is he a friend of 
yours? Now, that’s very interesting. And 
where did you say you were going with me?” 

“Just a few blocks from here.” 

“Boyd’s place, perhaps,” said the gambler. 

“Yes, his offices. He is waiting there for 
me and will be pleased to see anyone who 
knows so much about Morgan and Morgan’s 
wife.” 


420 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Miss Bertram, you mean,” laughed the 
gambler. 

“If you are wise you will use that name 
as little as possible and always with the ut- 
most respeet,” said Arthur in a tone that 
warned the other of the danger of angering 
him. 

“Oh, well,” said the gambler with an air 
of indififerenee, “if it will give you any pleas- 
ure to have my company in your little party. 
I’ll go with you. By the way, is there any 
special reason for all this rushing about to- 
night? 

“You shall be informed of everything you 
have any concern with when Mr. Boyd is 
ready to tell you.” 

“Shall I? Come on then! I have a deal 
of curiosity. Boyd’s? Let me see! It’s on 
Broadway, I think.” 

Arthur locked his arm in that of the gam- 
bler and, without answering him, led him 
toward Broadway. When they turned into 
that thoroughfare, and as they were ap- 
proaching Forty-second street, where the real 
life of Broadway begins, the gambler broke 
into a low chuckle and altered his manner so 
that anyone looking at them must have sup- 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


421 


posed they were a pair of close friends walking 
arm in arm. 

“I was thinking,” said Red Conn'or, “of 
the impression that will be made on any of 
your good friends to see you arm in arm 
with one of the most notorious gamblers in 
New York.” 

“They may think what they please,” Ar- 
thur said curtly, and then added with a sar- 
casm that cut even the gambler, “but my 
friends are not such as would have the least 
knowledge of such as you.” 

“I don’t wonder that Charlie Morgan 
wants to do you,” Red Connor snapped out. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


Once during the short walk the gambler 
thought he saw a chance to escape from the 
arm that was locked in his, and he made the 
attempt, but profoundly affected as Arthur 
was by the doubts and fears that now as- 
sailed him, he was too alert to be caught un- 
awares, and his hand had closed in an iron 
grip on the other’s shoulder in an instant, 
making the gambler cry out with the pain. 

A few minutes later they walked together 
into the offices of the detective, who sat at 
his desk in earnest colloquy with one of his 
men. He started at the sight of the gambler 
with Arthur, but instantly controlled himself 
and was as stolid as ever before his surprise 
could have been detected. 

“ Glad to see you, Mr. Raymond— and your 
companion also.” 

” Any news of the little girl?” Arthur asked 
eagerly. 

“I have reason to believe we shall find her 
to-night. What brings you here, Connor?” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


423 


“The strong right arm of this very ath- 
letic young gentleman,” answered the gambler 
with perfect nonchalance. “You may be sure 
I did not expect to have a game with you.” 

“ He went to the house where Miss Bertram 
has been living,” Arthur said in a tone whose 
firmness he meant as an intimation to the 
detective that he was still steadfast in his 
faith in Helen, “and was watching there 
when I went in. He followed me up to the 
other address and was following me further, 
when I decided to bring him with me.” 

“The first thing you know,” interposed 
the gambler in his mocking way, “he will 
be beating you at your own game. It was 
a very slick performance. Only I wasn’t fol- 
lowing him. Why should I be?” 

“What were you doing at the house of Miss 
Bertram?” the detective asked. 

“Do you mean Mrs. Morgan?” 

“Why do you call her Mrs. Morgan?” 

“Because I don’t suppose it’s worth while 
to try to conceal the fact, although Mr. Ray- 
mond seems so fond of being fooled that it 
makes him mad to have the two names mixed 
up.” 

Arthur, alternately paling and flushing 


424 A STRENUOUS LOVER 

with anger, was about to say something, 
when the deteetive stopped him with a ges- 
ture and continued the interrogation : 

“Why do you say Miss Bertram is Mrs. 
Morgan?” 

The gambler seated himself and with great 
deliberation lighted a cigarette. He puffed 
out the smoke, gazing at the detective with 
one little eye half-closed in a cunning leer. 

“Suppose you tell me what right you have 
to use force to bring me here and then cross- 
examine me,” he sAid. 

“No right, I suppose.” 

“Oh! then I might as well go.” 

“If you prefer the station-house to here, 
yes. The fact is, Connor, that we have it 
in our power to establish a little charge of 
complicity in kidnapping against you.” 

“Kids are out of my line, Boyd,” he an- 
swered, but made himself more comfortable 
instead of showing any sign of getting ready 
to go. 

“Well,” said the detective, dryly, as if he 
had effectually disposed of the other’s ob- 
jections to answering questions, “will you tell 
us now why you call Miss Bertram, Mrs. 
Morgan?” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


425 


“ It’s her name. She was married to Char- 
lie Morgan I don’t know how many months 
ago. They lived together for a while, but it 
suited them better to separate afterward. 
I suppose they found they didn’t suit each 
other.” 

” Then she hasn’t seen him for a long time, 
I suppose,” said the detective. 

“Why, no doubt you know she has visited 
him at Sing Sing.” 

“You are quite sure there is no mistake 
about Miss Bertram being the same who was 
married to Morgan.” 

“Well, I’ve met her in his rooms and been 
introduced to her as his wife. I don’t know 
any more than that.” 

“Why did they separate?” 

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask Mor- 
gan?” 

“When did they separate?” 

“I don’t know that, either.” 

“Mr. Raymond,” said the detective, turn- 
ing to Arthur, “will you come in here with 
me?” indicating a private room. 

“And you have nothing more you wish 
me to tell you?” the gambler asked, making 
a feint of reaching for his hat and coat. 


426 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Nothing, but you may as well remain 
where you are; the interests of the country 
won’t suffer from your remaining inactive for 
one night.” 

Arthur followed the detective into the pri- 
vate room a prey to such anguish of mind 
as fortunately few have to suffer. 

“ Your object has been to convince me that 
the woman I love is unworthy,” he said in 
a low tone as soon as the detective had closed 
the door. “ Well, you have been unsuccessful.” 

“You do not yet believe that your Miss 
Bertram and Mrs. Morgan are the same 
person?” 

“I cannot believe it, because to do so 
would be to imply a doubt of her truth and 
honor; and I never was surer than at this 
moment that Helen Bertram is peerless among 
women.” 

The detective made a gesture of despair, 
and on his usually impassive face was an 
expression of mild wonder. 

“You are hard to convince,” he said. 
“But let me tell you that I have been unus- 
ually careful in hunting this thing down, and 
I assure you that the Helen Bertram you love 
is the same woman who married Charles Mor- 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


427 


gan, the same woman who has received visits 
from him when he was free, and who has been 
visiting him since he has been in prison.” 

Arthnr’s face was white and drawn with 
distress. 

“I may not express any doubt of your 
correctness,” he said, “but I know Helen 
Bertram, and nothing can ever convince me 
that she is anything but a noble, high-minded 
woman.” 

“Well, I wished all this to come to you 
gradually, Mr. Raymond, for I was in love 
once, myself— though I know I don’t look it — 
and I know how it will pain you to have to 
give up your trust in the woman who has 
won your affection; but in this case every- 
thing is too plain and clear for any doubt to 
exist. Helen Bertram, or Mrs. Morgan, not 
only has visited her husband at Sing Sing, 
but what is more, the evidence is conclusive 
that there he and she plotted the abduction 
of your little Gertie.” 

“No, no!” Arthur cried. 

“Well, you shall see before you return 
home to-night, if you will have the patience 
to wait here.” 

“What do you mean?’’ 


428 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“I mean that instead of following any 
other clews, as the police are doing, I have 
put my best men on the track of Mrs. Mor- 
gan, and from bits of information that have 
been sent back to me there is no doubt that 
we shall have the child back 'in her home 
to-night, and Mrs. Morgan, her kidnapper, in 
custody.” 

“When it is proven I shall believe it,” 
Arthur said, huskily. 

The detective looked at him anxiously. 

“You take this very hard,” he said kindly, 
and after a few moments of reflection rose 
and left the room, asking Arthur to be pa- 
tient if he had to wait for some time. 

How long Arthur waited he did not know, 
for he was engaged with the most painful 
thoughts that could enter a man’s brain- 
thoughts of the untruth of the woman to 
whom he had given the most passionate love 
of his heart. But he did not, would not, be- 
lieve that Helen was anything but good and 
true. 

When, after the lapse of a long time, the 
door opened, he looked up expecting to see 
the detective enter, but instead his eye fell 
on the sweet, sympathetic face of Amelia, 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 429 

who entered with outstretched hands, followed 
by Robert. 

“I was told you were here, Arthur, and I 
came to be what help I could. They do not 
know at the house that I am here, and won’t 
unless they send in for me for something. 
Mr. Boyd telephoned to me to say that you 
were here and in distress; so I asked Robert 
to come with me. Robert is just a tower of 
strength when one wants sympathy;” and she 
smile at the now robust and handsome man, 
whose still-child-like face lighted up with ten- 
derness and pleasure. 

“I am sorry you took so much trouble, 
Amelia,” Arthur answered. “I am strong 
enough to bear the worst that may befall 
me. At least, the greatest evil seems unlikely 
to fall on us — Mr. Boyd is quite sure that we 
shall have Gertie back to-night.” 

“But you are glad I came, Arthur?” she 
asked in a tone that proved how sure she was 
of her welcome. 

“Indeed, Amelia, there is no one I would 
rather see. Do you believe the charges against 
Helen?” 

“You do not, Arthur?” 

“Not for an instant.” 


430 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Then I do not; for you should know. 
I believe there is some dreadful mistake that 
will be cleared up as soon as Helen is found. 
And Mr. Boyd is certain that she will soon 
be here with Gertie. He told me so just 
now.” 

“Soon, did he say?” gasped Arthur, hardly 
able to bear the strain. 

“Soon. And he said Mrs. Bertram, Helen’s 
mother, was on her way here, too.” 

Arthur began to pace the floor until, un- 
able to bear the suspense he threw open the 
door and called Mr. Boyd in. 

“Is it true that Miss Bertram and Gertie 
will soon be here?” he asked. 

“They were found together in Jersey.” 

“This is certain?” Arthur asked, hoarsely. 

“My best man has so telephoned me. 
Wait a moment! Some one has come in.” 
He left the room but returned within flve 
minutes, leading Mrs. Bertram, whose eyes 
were red with weeping, and who was trembling 
violently. “This is Mrs. Bertram, Mr. Ray- 
mond; will you ask her any questions?” 

Arthur approached her, hardly able to 
command his voice, and his heart beating 
violently. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


431 


“Mrs. Bertram,” he said, “where is your 
daughter, Miss Helen?” 

“I do not know; she went away about 
noon, and I have not seen her since. Oh, 
tell me what is wrong!” 

“They — they say her name— name is Mrs. 
Morgan, that — that she was married to 
Charles Morgan. Is — is that true? I don’t 
believe it, but I want you to say it is not 
the truth.” 

“Yes — oh yes, she did marry him. I — I — ” 

“My God!” groaned Arthur. 

“Hush!” said the detective, holding up 
his hand for silence; “there they are, now! 
Come!” 

They seemed to pass through the narrow 
doorway in a body, so eager were they to 
see if indeed Helen and Gertie were there. 

It was a sight never to be forgotten by 
those who saw it. Little Gertie lying in the 
strong arms of a detective, sound asleep, 
Helen, close beside them, guarded by another 
detective. 

The kidnapped child was recovered and 
Helen was a prisoner. 


CHAPTER XXXII 


Certainly, after all that had been said 
by the detective, it seemed as if there could 
now remain no doubt in Arthur’s mind that 
Helen was indeed as guilty as had been de- 
clared. 

Mr. Boyd felt heartily sorry for Arthur, 
but he was human enough to exult in the con- 
sciousness of having been right, and he could 
not help casting a look of triumph at him 
when Helen and little Gertie were brought 
into the room under such peculiar circum- 
stances. 

To his amazement, not to say disgust, 
however, he saw Arthur leaping toward Helen 
with nothing but sympathy and passionate 
love betraying themselves on his face. 

He interposed his person between Arthur 
and Helen, so as to check the former’s ad- 
vance, at the same time crying out sharply : 

“Don’t you understand? That woman, 
Mrs. Charles Morgan, stole that child and 
has been caught with the child in her pos- 
session.” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


433 


Arthur stopped and looked first at the 
deteetive and then at Helen. Everybody else 
in the room looked at him, even Amelia turn- 
ing from little Gertie, to whom she had run 
at once, to watch the tragedy of a strong 
love dying. 

“Helen,” Arthur said, “you heard what 
he said.” 

Helen, who had indeed heard, and had 
started forward with a low cry of pain, stopped 
quickly at the sound of his voice and studied 
his face with passionate earnestness, her 
bosom heaving almost convulsively. 

“Yes,” she answered slowly, “I heard 
what he said; but what do you say?” 

Before he could make any response the 
detective cried out : 

“This will not do, sir. Permit me to 
carry my work on to the end;” and he 
turned sternly to Helen, demanding: “Is it 
not true that you are the wife of Charles 
Morgan?” 

“Helen,” broke in her mother tremulously, 

i i J ) > 

“Answer my question,” the detective said 
to Helen, interrupting her mother. 

Helen looked only at Arthur, studying his 


434 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


face as if she would read the thoughts that 
gathered behind it. 

“ Will you listen to me, Arthur, while I tell 
you what I wish you to know; or will you 
have me answer this man’s questions?” 

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Boyd,” the de- 
tective holding little Gertie said. Mr. Boyd 
motioned him to silence, and the man shrug- 
ged his shoulder, as if submitting without 
comprehending why he was silenced. 

“Mr. Raymond, you will oblige me, I hope, 
by permitting me to question Mrs. Morgan. 
If she be innocent she has no reason for ob- 
jecting to answering.” 

“I am waiting for your answer, Arthur,” 
Helen said. 

“I can only answer that you must decide 
for yourself, Helen; I do not and have not 
wavered in my trust in you.” 

“And you will trust me to the end, no mat- 
ter what may transpire?” 

“I could not do otherwise,” he answ^ered 
firmly ; but she could see trouble in his 
eyes. 

“I will answer your questions,” she said, 
turning to the detective with a look of queenly 
pride. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 435 

“You are Mrs. Charles Morgan, are you 
not?” he demanded. 

“I am not,” she answered. 

“Do not hope to carry out such a decep- 
tion, madam !” he cried indignantly, “for not 
only have I the proofs in my possession, but 
even your own mother but a moment before 
your entrance admitted — ” 

“I meant to say,” broke in Mrs. Bertram, 
when the detective waved her aside. 

“It is too late to retract now, madam. 
You know she is the wife of Charles Morgan.” 

“I am happy to say,” Helen interposed 
quietly, “that I am not his wife. I was, but 
I am now legally divorced.” 

She turned to see how Arthur would re- 
ceive her words, and she saw him start back 
with a gasp. Then their eyes met and ex- 
changed a look that seemed to reassure her, 
for she turned once more to the detective, as 
if bidding him resume his questioning. 

“You have visited him time after time 
since he has been in prison?” he said sharply. 
“It looks to me as if your divorce was only 
a matter of convenience.” 

“I have visited him a number of times 
since he has been in prison,” she answered. 


436 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Perhaps you will admit that you visited 
him to make arrangements for the abduction 
of this child?” 

“Certainly I shall admit nothing of the 
kind.” 

“ But you were found with the child in your 
possession?” 

“Yes.” 

The detective turned triumphantly to Ar- 
thur. Helen was already looking at him. 

“You see, Mr. Raymond,” he said, “by 
her own words she is convicted. It is hardly 
worth while for us to prolong this scene.” 

Certainly Arthur could not fail to see that 
Helen had admitted enough to justify any one 
in pronouncing her guilty ; but there was 
something in her expression while answering 
the detective that gave Arthur the feeling that 
no one could be more scornful than she of 
the baseness of which she was accused. 

It is true that he had heard her admit her 
marriage to Charles Morgan with a pang 
that had caught him unprepared, in spite of 
what had been said before. But the fact that 
she was divorced was enough for him, for he 
was above the absurdity of condemning a 
woman because she has refused to live with 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 437 

a man whom she can no longer love or 
respect. 

Besides, he could see how all her treatment 
of him became justified and explained by the 
fact that she was a wife, and, above all, the 
wife of the man who had done so much to 
injure him. 

All this and much more had passed through 
his brain while the detective was interrogating 
Helen. He could not understand, but his 
tnist in the woman he loved was in no wise 
abated by anything he had heard her say. 

So when the detective spoke to him his eyes 
were gazing into Helen’s and finding there 
the proud assurance of perfect innocence. She 
did not speak, but waited for him to do so. 

“Her words are susceptible of explana- 
tion, Mr. Boyd,’’ he said. 

“This is the maddest infatuation,’’ the 
detective cried; “but your opinion, sir, shall 
not avail to save her from the penalty of 
her crime. Do you forget how you refused 
to believe that she was the wife of Charles 
Morgan?’’ 

“I do not forget; but it is enough for me 
that she has repudiated him. Will you not 
speak, Helen, and clear yourself of the crime 


438 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


of which you are accused? I do not ask it 
for myself, but for your own sake.” 

“You do not believe me guilty, Arthur?” 

“Not for an instant.” 

She smiled and turned to the man who still 
held little Gertie in his arms. 

“Let this man tell what he knows of the 
matter,” she said. 

Arthur pushed Mr. Boyd aside and took 
his place by Helen’s side, murmuring in a 
tone that she alone could hear : 

“Is this the end of my probation, Helen?” 

“It is for you to answer that question,” 
she answered; but the smile that parted her 
beautiful lips gave an added meaning to her 
words. 

“Mr. Boyd,” the man said, speaking softly, 
so as not to arouse the sleeping child, “it’s 
all a mistake; this lady had nothing to do 
with the kidnapping.” 

“What?” 

“That’s right, sir; she saved the child, or 
it wouldn’t be here now. The woman who 
did it is in charge now.” 

Mr. Boyd turned an incredulous glance on 
Helen, who, with her hand in Arthur’s, waited 
quietly for her vindication. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


439 


“I suppose,” said Mr. Boyd, resuming his 
ordinary manner with an effort, “you know 
what you are talking about, Dan?” 

“Well, I think I ought to, sir.” 

“You know that we’ve been watching this 
—this lady for some time, and have known 
that she was meeting Morgan at Sing Sing?” 

“I know that, but I know she saved this 
little girl and didn’t kidnap her.” 

“Oh, I can’t say anything about that, 
but on the face of it the fact is that if it had 
not been for this lady the woman who stole 
the child would have got away with it before 
I could have caught her.” 

“Perhaps,” said Helen with aquiet dignity 
that was wonderfully impressive, “it would be 
better to let him tell just what did happen. 
If you feel after that that you really must 
connect me with this crime I shall have no 
objections.” 

“But I shall,” interposed Arthur firmly. 
“I know Mr. Boyd too well to suppose for 
an instant that he has any but the best 
motives for persisting as he does in connect- 
ing you with the crime, but I none the less 
object most strenuously against his present 
attitude.” 


440 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“But, Mr. Raymond,” protested the de- 
teetive. 

“Let your man tell what he knows, if you 
will,” said Arthur, “but in the meantime 
some one should telephone that Gertie is 
found and will be home in a short time.” 

“Of course, it must be as you say, Mr. 
Raymond, but before permitting Dan to tell 
what he knows of this evening’s occurrences, 
let me say — and I say it without the least 
animosity toward this lady — that all her con- 
duct has been much against her. Her moving 
from one place to another in such a myster- 
ious manner, her visits to Charles Morgan at 
Sing Sing, and the very fact that now the 
baby has been recovered through her. It 
seems to me it is a fair question how she 
happens to have been able to know how to 
find the baby. Surely, Mr. Raymond, it must 
suggest itself to you that this opportune 
divorce from Morgan is strangely fortunate 
in coming at the same time with her dis- 
covery of the child. That is a service you are 
little likely to overlook.” 

“You certainly know how to put one and 
one together so as to make two, sir,” said 
Helen calmly, her luminous eyes searching 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


441 


Arthur’s as if to discover any least glimmer 
of doubt. 

She found none there, however, for stand- 
ing by her side he fairly thrilled with the 
consciousness of her truth and purity, and he 
flashed back into her eyes a look of perfect 
trust. 

“Amelia,” he said suddenly, turning to 
her, “I want the two best women I know 
to become acquainted with each other. You 
know who Helen Bertram is; Helen this is 
my dear friend, Amelia Winsted.” 

Amelia had responded to Arthur’s words 
with eager swiftness, gliding to the side of the 
woman who had won her lover from her 
with outstretched hand, saying heartily : 

“Miss Bertram, I do not need to tell you 
that I am as firm a believer in you as Arthur 
himself. I am the more glad to see you that 
Arthur has said so much of you that I al- 
ready feel more than half acquainted.” 

No one could have withstood the charm 
of the fair sweet girl, and Helen made no 
eflbrt to do so, but rather found her heart 
going out to her at once. 

“Friends are not so plentiful with me that 
I would refuse one,” Helen said warmly. 


442 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“least of all when that one is a friend of 
Arthur’s, and one, moreover, who must always 
win love easily for her own sake.” 

Amelia could not help flashing a merry 
look at Arthur as these last words fell from 
Helen’s lips, but she refrained from uttering 
the teasing words that leaped to her lips. 
Instead, she turned to Mr. Boyd, who was 
watching them with a cynical expression 
curling his lip, and said gaily : 

“Come, sir, let your detective tell his 
story, so that we may take our little Gertie 
home. Believe me, you have made a slight 
mistake this time, but we shall not value 
your services the less for that.” 

Even the disappointed detective was forced 
to melt a little under the genial warmth of 
Amelia’s manner. 

“Well,” he said, “I suppose I must be mis- 
taken, since you insist upon it, but Dan may 
as well tell what happened to him, so that 
we may all know.” 

“First telephone to my sister that her 
child has been found,” Arthur said. 

Mr. Boyd went to the telephone to notify 
Margie and Herbert, and Arthur took advan- 
tage of the opportunity to bring Robert and 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


443 


Mrs. Bertram into the eircle about Helen, 
introdueing to eaeh other those who were 
not yet aequainted, so that when the deteetive 
returned, having sent the message that was 
to bring relief and happiness in the sorrowing 
home, he found his supposed criminal in the 
midst of a group of friends. 

“Go on, Dan!” he said. 

Dan, having been relieved in the mean- 
time of the burden of little Gertie by Arthur, 
took up his story with a very apologetic 
air. 

“Why sir,” he said, “you know you had 
me already shadowing Mrs. Morgan, or Miss 
Bertram, when you got word to me that the 
child had been kidnapped?” 

“I had already learned of Miss Bertram’s 
marriage to Morgan,” Mr. Boyd said, by 
way of explanation. 

“You said,” went on Dan, “that Mrs. 
Morgan was sure to have had a hand in it. 
Well, I knew she couldn’t have had any hand 
in it, because I hadn’t lost sight of her for 
several days. However, I kept on her track, 
following her when she moved so suddenly, 
and wondering why she did it — ” * 

“I did it because I found I was being 


444 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


followed by an emissary of Charles Mor- 
gan’s,” Helen said, her eyes resting for a 
moment on the gambler, who had consti- 
tuted himself an apparently amused spectator 
of the whole proceedings, and who upon this 
reference to himself bowed and smiled broadly. 

Dan looked at him for a moment, mur- 
mured an “Oh!” of surprise and went on: 

“I didn’t know what to make of it, though, 
when suddenly Mrs. Morgan left her mother 
and went up to hang around Mr. Raymond’s 
house.” 

Mr. Boyd interrupted with a low cry of 
triumph, at which Helen smiled as if amused. 
Dan continued his recital. 

“To tell the truth, I lost sight of her there, 
and while I was hunting for her word came 
that the child had been stolen and saying 
Mrs. Morgan was suspected. Well, I didn’t 
suspect her, because I’d got to know some- 
thing about her while I was shadowing her. 
But as my orders were to look for the child 
in her keeping I did it, though I’d have looked 
for her anyhow, having lost sight of her.” 

“I had discovered that I was being fol- 
lowed,” Helen said, “and had taken steps 
to escape the surveillance.” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 445 

“Well,” went on Dan, “it’s no use to tell 
you how I found her again, but a man who 
has been shadowing anybody for any length 
of time can’t lose him for long; so I came 
upon Mrs. Morgan and found that she was 
in hot pursuit of somebody else. That some- 
body else turned out to be another woman, 
dressed exactly like Mrs. Morgan, and who 
was in possession of the child. Mrs. Morgan 
had followed her until she had cornered her 
over in Jersey, and had taken the child from 
her. You wouldn’t have thought she was any 
friend of Mrs. Morgan’s, either, if you’d heard 
her talk. Anyhow, it was Mrs. Morgan saved 
the little kid, sure enough.” 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


Dan’s story was conclusive, even with Mr. 
Boyd, who promptly made an apology to 
Helen for his unjust suspicions of her, and was 
as promptly forgiven. 

“And now let us hurry home,” said Arthur. 
“You will go with us, Helen; you and your 
mother.” 

“Thank you, no,” answered Helen; “we 
will go to our own home.” 

“She is afraid of being thanked,” laughed 
Amelia; “but I am sure there can be nothing 
comfortable in your own home, Helen, if 
you have just moved to-day; so I am going 
to insist that you and your mother come 
with me. We have lots of room, and you 
simply must come and stay with me. Add 
your word, Mrs. Bertram, for Helen looks 
as if she meant to be obstinate.” 

“Please accept her invitation, Helen,” 
pleaded Arthur. 

“But, Arthur,” she murmured in a trou- 
bled tone. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


447 


“You want a good excuse for accepting,” 
laughed Amelia, who seemed to know how 
to set Helen at ease ; “ and I have the excuse : 
we are all dying to know how you happened 
to be on hand at the right time. You see 
we have a right to know and we shan’t sleep 
until we have been told.” 

Not much more was wanted to win Helen, 
but before she would finally yield she took 
Arthur to one side and said to him frankly : 

“ I am not going to pretend, Arthur, that 
I do not understand your feelings toward me, 
nor shall I any longer try to hide mine from 
you, but you know now that I am a divorced 
woman, and that many persons have a strong 
prejudice against a woman who is divorced; 
your family may.” 

“I do not know how some members of 
my family may feel, and I do not care, Helen. 
Marriage is a matter that concerns those 
who enter into it, and them only. To me it 
is a matter of no concern whatever that you 
are divorced. I love you for what you are. 
Anyhow, I am sure you could come into my 
family under no better conditions than these : 
that you are the savior of little Gertie and 
that you are the woman I love.” 


448 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“Then I will go home with Miss Winsted, 
but not to remain. I will let your family see 
me, and I will tell you all how it happened 
that I was on hand to save Gertie. In this 
way there will be no need of further explana- 
tion to them as to who and what I am.” 

It is improbable that any one but Amelia 
could have told how it happened that the 
party distributed itself as it did on the way 
home. Arthur, if he had spoken for him- 
self, would surely have expressed himself as 
well pleased that it happened that when he 
got into his carriage he found Helen already 
there. 

Amelia was not one to half do anything 
she undertook to do at all. There was no 
half-heartedness in hersympathy with Arthur’s 
love for Helen; and now that she had seen 
Helen her sympathy was rather enthusiasm, 
and she felt that Arthur’s steadfastness in 
spite of everything was fully justified. 

She knew very well that the others were 
always secretly wondering whether or not 
she had really ceased to love Arthur, but 
that was a thing that did not trouble her. 
She had settled it in her own mind very 
comfortably. She certainly did love Arthur, 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


449 


and was sure that that he loved her; but 
also she knew now that something besides 
love was necessary to justify marriage, and 
that something was nothing less than the 
physical attraction which she had never felt 
when she was a weakling, and which she did 
not feel toward Arthur now. 

So it was with a sense of positive comfort 
that she settled down in her carriage by the 
side of her pupil, Robert, with little Gertie 
snuggled in her arms and Mrs. Bertram oppo- 
site. She was sincerely rejoiced that she had 
been able to contrive it so that Arthur and 
Helen should ride home together. 

As for Robert, he was yet such a singular 
mixture of boy and man that he was never 
quite sure whether to say what he felt or to 
hide his feelings. On this occasion he had 
smiled his satisfaction at being by Amelia’s 
side, but had said nothing. 

Generally his manner with Amelia reminded 
those who saw them together of a great, 
dignified mastiff; and while Mrs. Raymond 
and Maude, in particular, never ceased to 
repine that Arthur did not return to his 
first love, they yet were able to notice how 
devoted Robert was to his teacher. 

29 


450 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


It never oecurred to them, however, and 
perhaps it had not yet occurred to Amelia, 
that such devotion as Robert now showed 
might very well in time develop into that 
sort of love which demands marriage for its 
satisfaction. 

As yet, however, Robert was thinking of 
nothing of that sort, but only of the improve- 
ment of his mental and physical self ; what- 
ever else was in his heart was not in a form 
to be recognized by him. He drank in every 
word Amelia uttered, and stored its meaning 
away ; and what with his desire to please her 
and his greed for knowledge he had made 
marvelous strides. 

Physically he was already in a better con- 
dition than most men who have been free all 
their lives to strengthen themselves ; but with 
Arthur as an example, and Arthur’s and 
Amelia’s enthusiasm to spur him on, he was 
determined to build up for himself a phys- 
ique to be proud of 

He worshiped Arthur, who represented to 
him all that was worthiest in manhood, just 
as Amelia represented the best in woman- 
hood; and if he studied to think as Amelia 
would have him, so he unconsciously studied 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


451 


to look and to act as much as possible like 
Arthur. 

And he succeeded so well in this that 
Amelia was always amused by the curious 
resemblance between them; a resemblance 
which never deceived her, but which had made 
more than one of Arthur’s acquaintances to 
hail Robert as they caught sight of his broad 
shoulders at a distance. 

Amelia did most of the talking in that 
carriage, Mrs. Bertram being very weary and 
Robert, as usual, content to listen to what 
to him was the sweetest music in the world. 

It is needless to tell what went on in the 
other carriage. Not many words were spoken 
by either Helen or Arthur, notwithstanding 
the many that were needed to explain all that 
had come into the hearts of them both. Yet, 
little as was said, a supreme contentment 
was in the heart of each of the lovers when 
at last the home of the Raymonds was 
reached. 

Arthur knew what he most craved to 
know from Helen, that she loved him with 
a fervor and passion no whit less than his 
own for her. And she knew that his knowl- 
edge of her marriage to Morgan, the man 


452 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


he had such cause to hate, had not affected 
his love for her. 

That much she had asked him in plain 
words, for she could not be happy else. The 
question had come after the first moments of 
silence, the carriage rolling noiselessly along 
on its rubber-tired wheels. 

“Arthur,” she had said, “I meant to let 
you know about Charles Morgan in a different 
way. At first I had not intended that you 
should ever see me again, but when you came 
upon me over on the East Side I knew that 
that was hopeless. It was certain then that 
we must meet and that you must know that 
I had been the wife of your deadliest enemy.” 

“But that is all gone and by, dear; why 
talk of it?” 

“Something must be said between us, 
Arthur. I had not meant to deceive you at 
first ; I was using my own name when I posed 
for Mr. Bernardo because I so loathed the 
name of Morgan. Afterward I learned how 
much cause you had for hard feelings for him, 
and I feared you could never forgive me for 
having been his wife.” 

“I only know that all other feelings are 
swallowed up in the love I bear you, Helen.” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


453 


“But you were shoeked when you learned 
that I was his wife, I could see that you 
had all along refused to believe that such 
infamy could be mine; and then, when the 
truth came to you from my own lips you 
were terribly shocked.” 

“For one second, Helen. Then I looked 
into your eyes and knew that you were your- 
self and neither the wife of this man nor the 
other. I loved you for yourself. I have no 
prejudice against divorce; rather, I admire 
that woman who refuses the degradation 
which is inevitable when husband and wife 
do not love. Love is the only justification 
for marriage. Marriage under any other con- 
ditions is harlotry. So you see I honor you 
the more because you refused to live with 
the man you did not love.” 

“It is what I would have expected from 
you, Arthur, and I never feared for your 
opinion of that. But I was Morgan’s bride, 
Arthur. May it not be that you will recall 
that fact some day and let it lessen your 
love for me? I want to be sure of that 
now.” 

“And you may be sure. I love you neither 
less nor more because you were his bride. 


454 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


I am effected in no way whatever by the fact. 
I love you and I am content that you are as 
you are. I can imagine you no nobler, no 
better, no worthier; I can imagine no other 
woman half so worthy. In my heart, neither 
in my mind do I mingle you and that man in 
one idea; you are separate and alone; and 
if you had never seen him he could have no 
more part in your life, so far as I am con- 
cerned, than some man unknown to me. Can 
you not understand from your own heart, 
Helen, that in loving you I set you apart 
from the world ? If love means to you what 
it does to me there need be no further ques- 
tionings.” 

And there were none. Their lips met in 
their first kiss, and from that moment they 
set out together in life. A priest or magis- 
trate might put legal bonds on them, but the 
consecration of love was theirs already; and 
that was the real and only conscration of 
their union. 

But there was yet the family approval to 
be gained, and although Arthur was prepared 
to wed the woman of his choice in face of 
the opposition of the whole world, yet even 
he wished his mother and sisters to like 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 455 

Helen and approve his choice of her as his 
wife. 

But it meant far more to Helen than to 
Arthur, for no woman cares to enter a family 
unloved, undesired ; so that Helen looked for- 
ward to the approaching meeting with Mrs. 
Raymond and her daughters with no little 
apprehension. 

Arthur might sweep aside their objections, 
as a strong man may, but Helen shrank from 
the criticisms and the meaning looks of wo men 
who take the old-fashioned view of divorce, 
and who see in a divorcee one who has 
violated one of Heaven’s laws and who is 
far on her way toward infamy. 

But she need have had no fears for what 
might happen that night, for the minds of 
all in the house were filled with no other idea 
than the rescued child, who was put into 
Margie’s trembling arms by Amelia. 

Nor would Margie give Gertie up even to 
her father, but held her close to her breast 
while she looked and listened, speaking only 
to Helen when Arthur introduced her as the 
one who had found and rescued Gertie. 

“God bless you for it!” she sobbed; “and 
when you have children of your own, as I 


456 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


hope you will, you will understand what 
it is to me to have my little girl restored 
to me.” 

“She is to be my wife,” Arthur said, so 
that all heard. “You have heard me speak 
of Helen Bertram; this is she.” 

“I do not wonder you love her,” Margie 
said. 

Mrs. Raymond was no less kind than 
Margie, kissing Helen and making her wel- 
come and showering gratefol thanks upon 
her. Maude, too, who remembered more 
clearly than the others the things that had 
been said about Helen by the detective, yet 
met her with effusive cordiality. 

Then there followed much eager talk about 
the finding of Gertie, and Helen would have 
been glad to tell her story then, but they 
were all too much excited and all too much 
tired, as Amelia saw; and it was she who 
interposed to prevent the telling of a story 
which she knew as well as Helen might not 
be received as it should be. 

She therefore whispered to Arthur that it 
would be far better if Helen postponed the 
telling of her story until the next day, before 
which time she, Amelia, would have an 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


457 


opportunity of preparing Mrs. Raymond and 
Maude. 

She then persuaded Helen and her mother 
to pass the remainder of the night with her, 
representing that no one was in the right 
mood to hear a story which should be told 
more in detail, anyhow, than the time allowed. 

“Margie and Herbert are too much taken 
up with' Gertie to listen,” she said, “and 
they will be your strongest allies, Helen. 
You see, I have taken the liberty of reading 
your thoughts; please forgive me!” 

“Oh, I am grateful to you,” Helen an- 
swered. “I confess I am dreading the effect 
on them of the revelation that I was once 
that man’s wife, and now divorced from him.” 

“Dread nothing, dear,” said Amelia in a 
tone of conviction; “you will be received as 
heartily as you could wish. You will see 
that it is so to-morrow.” 

So it was with the comfort of this assur- 
ance that Helen laid her tired head on her 
pillow and gave herself up to sleep, nearer to 
peace than she had been in many weary 
weeks. 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


Amelia, who seemed almost literally tire- 
less, now that she had become what some of 
her friends called a physical culture fiend, 
made her appearance in the Raymond home 
while they were still in the breakfast room; 
and there was not a person present who did 
not hail her with delight. 

“I’ve corned home again,” was Gertie’s 
greeting of her; whereupon Amelia caught 
her up and kissed her again and again, say- 
ing as she put her dowm at last : 

“Isn’t it awful to think that she might 
not have been here but for the noble heroism 
of that lovely Helen Bertram? Ah, Arthur, 
you have a right to feel proud of having won 
the love of such a woman. Didn’t you think 
her magnificent, Mrs. Raymond?” 

“I don’t think I had a really good look 
at her, but I know she was beautiful. How 
is she? I hope she rested well. We are all 
eager to hear her tell how she happened to 
find Gertie.” 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


459 


“That’s right, Arthur,” laughed Amelia, as 
she saw him slipping quietly out of the room, 
“Helen is sure to be lonely, for papa and Mrs, 
Bertram are talking together as if no one 
else existed in the world,” 

“He seems desperately in love, ’’said Maude, 
not too sweetly, 

“As he ought to be,” answered Amelia, 
promptly, “for she is as good as she is beau- 
tiful, As for us, we ought to be forever grate- 
ful to her, for the detective said that if it 
had not been for her the kidnappers would 
have made their escape with Gertie; and it 
might have been months, if ever, before she 
could have been found,” 

“We are grateful enough,” said Mrs, Ray- 
mond; “our only difficulty is to show how 
much we feel,” 

“That will be easy enough,” said Amelia, 
confidently; “you have nothing to do but to 
show her that she is welcome as Arthur’s 
wife,” 

“Of course, we will do that,” said Margie, 
quickly, 

“I don’t understand what Mr, Boyd meant 
when she said she was Morgan’s wife at the 
time he accused her of having stolen Gertie,” 


460 A STRENUOUS LOVER 

answered Mrs. Raymond, refusing to commit 
herself. 

“Of course, mother, she can’t be his wife 
if Arthur talks of marrying her,” cried 
Margie. “For my part, there will be no 
half-heartedness in the way I give her my 
thanks.” 

“She isn’t Morgan’s wife, of course,” Amelia 
said; “I can assure you of that, Mrs. Ray- 
mond.” 

“I really didn’t suppose she was,” Mrs. 
Raymond said, somewhat stiffly ; “ I only won- 
dered what Mr. Boyd meant.” 

“He meant that Helen had been his wife 
once.” 

“What?” was the instant cry in a hor- 
rified chorus. 

“She is divorced now,” Amelia went on, 
her mild eyes beginning to flash. 

“Divorced!” cried Mrs. Raymond and 
Maude in a breath. “Arthur marry a di- 
vorced woman ! ” 

“There is no disgrace in divorce,” said 
Herbert quickly. 

“None whatever,” chimed in Margie, who 
had quite recovered herself, after the first 
shock of knowing that Helen had been the 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 461 

wife of Morgan. “I think the disgrace is in 
living with a man without loving him.” 

“You have peculiar notions.” said Maude, 
with a sneer. 

“ Yes, thank heaven ! she has,” said Amelia, 
aggressively. “And I fancy none of you 
would have stopped to ask whether she was 
divorced or not when she was saving little 
Gertie from goodness knows what horrible 
fate. What difference does it make whether 
she is divorced or not? The question is, is 
she a good woman? And I can tell you that 
she is one of the noblest women that ever 
lived.” 

“And I can tell you, mother,” said Margie, 
impressively, “that Arthur will marry her, 
anyhow, because he loves her better than any 
and everybody else, as a man ought to love 
the woman he marries; so I advise that we 
not only thank her for what she has done, 
but open our arms to her, caring only that 
she is a good and true woman.” 

“You know what a scoundrel that man 
Morgan is,” Amelia, following Margie quickly. 
“Would you really have had her live with 
him after discovering his character?” 

“No-o, I suppose not; of course not. 


462 A STRENUOUS LOVER 

But why did she marry him in the first 
place?” 

“She is going to tell you that this morn- 
ing if you will listen to her. I came in to 
prepare your mind for what I knew would 
be hard for you to hear. I know how good 
she is, and I know how dearly Arthur loves 
her; so I came in on purpose to predispose 
you in her favor. I knew, dear Mrs. Ray- 
mond,” she went on, cajolingly, her arm 
stealing around the old lady’s shoulders and 
her little hand caressing her cheek, “how 
your kind heart would go out to her if you 
would hear her patiently. She was young 
when she married him, and she did it be- 
cause her mother insisted. Will you blame 
her now?” 

Mrs. Raymond laughed softly and drew 
the lovely face down so that she could kiss 
it. 

“I don’t wonder your father is your slave,” 
she said. “I certainly never believed I would 
receive, to say nothing of welcoming, a di- 
vorced woman as my daughter-in-law, and 
now I am going to do it.” 

“And you’ll love her the moment you 
really know her,” cried Amelia, joyfully. “Oh, 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


463 


you dear thing ! Hug her for me, Margie, 
while I go to bring Helen in.” 

“And that is the girl Arthur gave up,” 
said Mrs. Raymond, shaking her head dole- 
fully as Amelia ran away. 

“Helen married to please her mother,” 
said Herbert, pithily. 

“Besides,” said Margie, quickly, “Amelia 
doesn’t want to marry Arthur any more 
than he does her.” 

“I think she is very fond of him,” inter- 
jected Maude. 

“And Arthur is very fond of her,” came 
from Robert, who had said nothing before; 
“he told Helen that she was one of his dear- 
est friends.” 

When they all looked at him, as they did 
on his speaking, they noticed that his face 
was scarlet. They exchanged glances, and 
Margie began to talk of Gertie. They had 
forgotten Robert, or they would not have 
talked so freely of Arthur and Amelia. 

Presently they all went up to the sitting- 
room, knowing that Helen would soon come 
with Amelia and Arthur, as indeed was the 
case. And now they had their first good op- 
portunity to see Helen and to study her ; and 


464 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


as they looked they were all forced to admit 
that they had never seen her equal. 

Not that they sat still and studied her, 
either; for the fact was that Margie ran to 
her and took her into her arms, kissing her 
and saying loving grateful things that made 
Helen happy at once ; and then Mrs. Raymond 
casting away her old, conventional notions, 
and seeing only the noble woman who had 
won Arthur’s love and who had put them 
under such a tremendous obligation by her 
recovery of Gertie, went to her and kissed her 
and whispered in her ear : 

“I know everything, and I welcome you as 
my new daughter.” 

Maude was less hearty, but she was gra- 
cious, and Helen’s eyes filled with tears as 
she sat down between Mrs. Raymond and 
Arthur. 

Amelia, with a kindly thoughtfulness that 
both Arthur and Helen fully appreciated, 
kept everybody’s attention fixed on her by 
her merry talk until Helen was ready to begin 
her story, which she did finally, saying: 

“I am glad dear Amelia has told you the 
painful part of my story. It would have been 
very hard for me to be the first to tell you 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 465 

that, for I cannot but know how such a 
revelation must affeet you.” 

Her Yoiee quavered a little as she spoke, 
but her head was held with a queenly poise 
and her wonderful eyes looked bravely around 
at the faees there, as if to show that, what- 
ever their criticism might be, she held herself 
to be in the right. 

“But we don’t think a bit the less of you 
for it,” eried Margie at once. 

“Not a bit,” said Mrs. Raymond, more and 
more won by the strong, brave nature. 

“Thank you,” Helen said, in a low tone, 
and then went on: “It was neeessary for 
you to know that I had been married to 
Charles Morgan, beeause it was through that 
fact that it was finally in my power to save 
little Gertie. Did Amelia tell you that I was 
an ignorant girl when I married that man to 
please mother, who had been completely de- 
ceived by his hypocritieal professions?” 

“She told us something of it,” Margie 
answered. 

“Well, I was ignorant, indeed, but I shrank 
from marrying him, and before I was one 
week his wife I knew him for such a base 
wretch that I refused to remain under his roof, 
30 


466 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


and would never again bear his name. I left 
him and have supported myself ever since. 
He has tried over and over again to win me 
back; and even when he was trying to per- 
suade Amelia to be his wife he was also perse- 
cuting me with his solicitations to return to 
him. You may judge by that how lost to 
shame, decency and morality he must be.” 

If anything had been needed to completely 
win over those present, this proof of Mor- 
gan’s infamy would have been sufficient. 
Helen went on, with but a moment’s pause : 

“It is needless to say anything more about 
him, except to add that my misery on learn- 
ing of the cruel wrong he had done you” — 
she turned to Arthur with a divine smile — 
“was more than I can express. I hid myself 
from you because I thought that was best 
and right ; but Morgan found me through his 
agents when he was in prison and sent me 
such messages as persuaded me to go to him 
in prison. I am glad now that I did, for 
it was on my first visit to him that I gained 
the idea that he meant to wreak his wrath 
on you in some terrible way.” 

“We owe you even more than we know, 
then,” said Margie, her thoughts flying to 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


467 


the possibility that Gertie might have been 
made to suffer for them all. 

“Anything I have done I am glad to have 
done,” Helen answered. “But, not to make 
too long a story of it, I was so sure that 
something was being plotted by that man 
that I consented to visit him more than 
once, always hoping to discover something.” 

“ How good of you ! ” Mrs. Raymond cried. 

“Finally I was sure that there was a plot, 
although I could not discover its nature. I 
was sure only that Arthur was to be struck 
at somehow, and a number of small circum- 
stances convinced me that the day was near. 
I knew I was being followed, and it was to 
escape this surveillance that I moved suddenly 
yesterday. I thought I was shadowed by one 
of Morgan’s friends ; now I know that he, and 
the detective as well, were having ihe fol- 
lowed.” 

“I fancy,” laughed Herbert, “that Mr. 
Boyd would not feel flattered if he knew what 
you are telling us.” 

“At any rate,” responded Helen, “I am 
glad now that there was a detective follow- 
ing me. Well, yesterday I became so uneasy 
that I determined to escape surveillance if 


468 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


it were possible, and come up here to watch 
over the house. For some time I waited in 
the neighborhood, half-minded to warn you, 
Mr. Courtney, but deterred always by the 
very vagueness of my knowledge.” 

“I wish you had made yourself known to 
me,” Margie said. 

“What could I have told you in excuse for 
doing so? Morgan was in prison, Arthur 
scorned to guard himself, and I had no sus- 
picion that Gertie was in danger. I had al- 
ready written an anonymous letter to Arthur. 
But nothing matters now.” 

“No,” said Arthur; “all’s well that ends 
well, and I think this has ended very well.” 

Helen blushed divinely and went on with 
her story. 

“While I was waiting uneasily around here 
I overheard Mrs. Courtney say something 
about Gertie to her mother, in answer to a 
question as to her being in the park. She and 
Mrs. Raymond were walking down the street 
together. Instantly it flashed through my 
brain that Gertie might be in danger, and, 
without stopping to reason the matter out, 
I hurried to the park. 

“ I don’t suppose I should have taken any 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


469 


especial note of Gertie being put into a car- 
riage even then, if I had not been struck 
by the fact that the woman with the child 
was dressed precisely like me, and even bore 
herself somewhat as I do. I think I realized 
the whole plot in that one instant ; and I do 
not need to say that I set out in pursuit, 
hardly needing the sight of the nurse to as- 
sure me that my suspicions were correct. 

“If I had not been as muscular and active 
as I am, I am sure I should never have kept 
on the track of that carriage. As it was, it 
reached the ferry to New Jersey before I could 
overtake it, and when I came to the ferry 
house it was to find the boat gone. 

“I waited for the next boat, but the wom- 
an had had time enough to take a train for 
somewhere. However, I could describe her 
and Gertie, and so learned from the ticket 
agent where she had gone. I followed by the 
next train and traced her easily enough to the 
house she had gone to. 

“What trouble I might have had there I 
cannot say, for the detective, who had fallen 
upon my trail again, after having lost me 
once, came up just in time to assist me in 
rescuing Gertie. And that is the story.” 


470 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


“A very small part of the story, I know,” 
said Herbert, coming over to her and taking 
her by the hand. “ I am sure that if you were 
to tell all that your modesty has made you 
suppress we should have a great deal more 
to listen to.” 

“Well,” said Mrs. Raymond, “she need not 
suppose we are to be put off with so little. 
When she and Arthur have had their talk 
out — ^which I am sure they must be aching to 
have — ^we shall insist upon everything. In the 
meantime, my dear” — stooping over after she 
had risen from her chair and kissing Helen — 
“ we have our duties to perform and you and 
Arthur shall be bothered no more.” 

“Please, Mrs. Raymond!” cried Helen, 
scarlet with confusion. 

“Mother is right, Helen,” Arthur ex- 
claimed, eagerly. “We have a great deal to 
say to each other.” 

The members of the Raymond household 
smiled at Arthur’s frankness, but the smile 
was a sympathetic one; and each, with a 
kindly word or a lovingly teasing one passed 
out of the room, leaving the lovers alone 
together. And the last one to look back 
saw Arthur open his strong arms to Helen. 


CHAPTER XXXY 


There was nothing of the coquette in Hel- 
en’s composition, so that when the last bar- 
rier to her union with Arthur was removed 
she let him have his way, telling him that he 
could not love her more than she loved him, 
nor be more eager than she for their marriage. 

“ Our probation has already been long and 
hard enough to satisfy anybody,” she said 
frankly, “and what is of most account is 
that be know our own minds beyond any 
possibility of doubt.” 

So Arthur set an early date, and with 
the least possible fuss they were married. 
They went away for a short wedding trip, 
and then returned to take a little house not 
far from the old home. 

Once, as they sat together alone in their 
little sitting-room, Arthur said he was re- 
joiced to think that they had so well over- 
come all that had threatened them; and he 
mentioned the woman who had kidnapped 
Gertie, Red Connor the gambler, and Morgan, 


472 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


all in prison. But Helen shook her head at 
that and said : 

“Arthur, I do not mean to live in dread of 
anybody, but I know that as long as Charles 
Morgan lives danger threatens us.” 

Arthur laughed and shrugged his shoulders, 
saying he was afraid of no man, least of all 
one who was behind the prison bars. 

Helen was one of those women strong 
enough in her own convictions to be in no 
need of argument to sustain her opinion; so 
she said no more, but kept watch over Charles 
Morgan, even while he was in prison, with 
the aid of Mr. Boyd. And when the day of 
Morgan’s liberation came she told Arthur 
and begged him to be on his guard. 

By this time there was a little Amelia in 
their household— a dear little baby, whose 
coming had been so well planned for that 
there had never yet been one moment of pain 
for it or the mother; and it was on account 
of the baby that Helen conjured Arthur to 
be careful. 

Arthur laughed, but promised; and for a 
while he did have a care whenever he went 
into a part of the city more evil than an- 
other; but his was not a nature to harbor 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


473 


fear and lie soon became careless. And per- 
haps he would have come to laugh at Helen’s 
fears had not the evil shadow of Morgan been 
cast across the pathway of his life in a last 
desperate attempt to darken it forever, 

Robert, by this time, had quite come into 
his own mentally and physically, although 
his education was still going on under the 
care of competent teachers. 

Amelia said that he had graduated out of 
her class, but Robert, with a meaning that 
Amelia ignored, always said that he had not 
and never would willingly graduate out of 
her class. In fact, as everybody, Amelia in- 
cluded, knew, Robert was passionately in love 
with her. 

One evening, soon after Morgan’s release, 
Robert came home late from the office, where 
he had been to see Arthur, and it was quite 
dark when he passed through Morningside 
Park. 

He was quite as fearless as Arthur, and 
it never troubled him to go through the 
park even on the darkest night, but, strangely 
enough, there was a house that he had to 
pass after leaving his own which he never 
passed without a sort of nervous tension. It 


474 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


was an old, tumbledown structure, surrounded 
by shrubbery and standing alone in the block, 
a relic of a suburban home in the days when 
New York was a small city. 

On the evening in question he felt this 
singular nervousness as he approached the 
house, but he laughed at himself, as his cus- 
tom was, and strode manfully on. 

This time, however, his apprehension was 
not a vain one; for, as he passed, quelling 
firmly the shudder that threatened to pass 
over him, a shadowy form rose from behind 
the shrubbery and leaped through the open 
gate after him. Robert had just time to turn 
and see the form close upon him, a gleam- 
ing knife descending to sheath itself in his 
breast. 

“Curse you!” came in hissing tones from 
the lips of his assailant. 

Instinctively Robert caught at the knife 
and uttered a loud cry for help. He warded 
off the blow, but at the expense of having 
three fingers badly gashed. In an instant he 
struck out with the other hand and hit the 
man, who uttered a horrible imprecation and 
threw himself on him, as if determined to kill 
him at any cost. 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


475 


But Robert was strong and agile, and in 
the excitement forgot the cuts on his fingers, 
catching the hand that held the knife and 
endeavoring with his free hand to clutch the 
other’s throat. 

What the issue might have been it would 
be impossible to say, for the man was en- 
dowed with great strength and was animated 
by the most furious anger; but fortunately 
there came the sound of rapid footsteps ap- 
proaching, impelling the man to strive to free 
himself 

This he succeeded in doing just as the new- 
comer reached the spot; and he might have 
made good his escape if he had not stopped 
to deal a last blow with his knife at Robert, 
cutting through his coat and even drawing 
blood at the left breast. 

Then, indeed, with a savage cry of exulta- 
tion as Robert staggered back, he turned and 
fled; but the man who had come up was a 
policeman and he had witnessed the blow 
with the knife. He fired two shots at the 
fleeing man. The latter stumbled, rose again 
and fell prone on the sidewalk. 

When Robert and the policeman hurried to 
him he lay still; he was dead. The second 


476 


A STRENUOUS LOVER 


bullet must have pierced the heart or some 
vital organ. 

The dead man was Charles Morgan, and 
no one doubted that he had mistaken Robert 
for his brother. 

***** 

Yes, Robert and Amelia did marry, though 
not until Robert was such a magnificent speci- 
men of manhood, mental, moral and physical, 
that when he was in the same room with Ar- 
thur no one could justly say that either was 
inferior to the other. 


THE END 






POWER AND BEAUTY OF SUPERB WOMANHOOD 

By BERNARR MACFADDEN 
Handsomely Bound in Cloth and Gold, $ 1 . 00 . 

You cannot afford to be without this new book. It is worth its weight 
in gold to any woman with brains enough to read, think and act. It will 
enable her to make something of herself. It will enable her to develop 
her highest attainable degree of beauty and power of body. It will save 
many thousands of dollars in doctor’s bills. Every book is sold with a 
guarantee to return the money to every dissatisfied purchaser. 

CONTENTS 

SUPERB WOMANHOOD. Its great value. Marvelous, all-in- 
spiring power of beauty. Beauty can be retained to advanced age. 

PRESENT PHYSICAL CONDITION OF WOMAN. Woman can 
be almost equal in strength to man. 

CAUSES OF WRECKED WOMANHOOD. Abnormal and weak- 
ening influences begin in babyhood. Overfeeding, excessive cloth- 
ing, bad air, fear of sunlight. 

FEARFUL RESULTS OF PRUDISHNESS. The kindergarten of 
all evils which follow. Filthy minds produce filthy bodies. Plain 
duty of mothers and fathers. Must daughters secure their knowl- 
edge from vulgar associates, or from pure sources? 

MARITAL EXCESSES. Marriage a physical union, founded on 
physical attraction. Instinct the only right guide in “falling in 
love.’’ Influences before marriage prevent the development of 
this Instinct. Depraved idea of modern marriage. 

CRUSHING THE PLAY SPIRIT. This natural Instinct created 
In every growing girl. A crime to crush it. 

CORSETS. Origin of the use of this device. False standard of 
beauty perpetuates It. Delicacy no longer a sign of beauty. 

CORSETS WEAKEN DIGESTION. Cramped lungs and stomach 
cannot make rich blood. Vigor of early youth able to resist its 
baneful influence. 

CORSETS INCREASE NATURAL SIZE OF WAIST. 

CORSETS AGE WOMEN PREMATURELY. 

CORSETS DESTROY WOMANHOOD. They take away or pre- 
vent the complete development of womanly instinct. The deadly 
downward pressure of corsets misplaces, weakens and destroys the 
organs of sec. 

THE EVILS OF TIGHT SKIRTS, SHOES, ETC. 

OPERATIONS THAT ARE CRIMES. 

CAN WRECKED WOMANHOOD BE RECLAIMED? All can be 
vastly Improved. 

DIET. The great importance of proper foods. 

FASTING CURES. How to fast to produce results. 

HOW EXERCISE BEAUTIFIES THE BODY. Sparta’s beautiful 
woman. 

PHOTOGRAPHS OF DEFECTIVE FIGURES. 

EXERCISES FOR DEVELOPING SUPPLENESS AND SYM- 
METRY. A special system of exercises Illustrated by photographs. 

EXERCISES FOR BUST DEVELOPMENT. 

EXERCISES FOR REMEDYING PHYSICAL DEFECTS. 

EXERCISES FOR REMEDYING FEMALE WEAKNESSES. 

NATURAL TREATMENT OF FEMALE WEAKNESSES. 

CHILDBIRTH MADE PAINLESS BY EXERCISE. 

WALKING AND OUTDOOR EXERCISES. 

AIR BATHS. PURE AIR. 

BATHING AND WATER TREATMENT. 

INFALLIBLE REMEDY FOR CONSTIPATION. 

MASSAGE AS A BEAUTIFIER. 

FRICTION BATHS. Great value of this means In giving the 
skin velvety softness and beauty of texture. 

PROPER CARRIAGE OF THE BODY. 

PHYSICAL CULTURE PUBLISHING COMPANY 

Townsend Building, ^5tli St. & Broadway, N. Y. City 


OUR NEW 

PHYSICAL CULTURE 
COOK BOOK 


Preface and first chapters by BERNARR MAC- 
FAD DEN. The remaining chapters compiled under 
Mr. Macfaddeu’s direction. Bill of fare for one week 
of foods. 

No one can afford to be without this book. Anyone 
who tries some of our special recipes will discover 
that proper preparation increases the pnlatability 
of food. Eearii how and what to cook in order to build 
and retain the highest degree of normal health by 
following the recipes of our cook book. 


PARTIAL LIST OF CONTENTS 

Containing clear instructions for making or cooking 
every article mentioned. 

BEVERAGES.— Apple Punch ; Grape Juice; Lemonade. 

BREAD, ROLLS AND BISCUIT. -Aerated Bread ; Barley Meal Scones ; 
Brown Bread ; Corn Muffins : Graham Gems : Johnny Cake ; Hot Cross Buns ; 
Pop Over: Rye Bread ; Sally Lunn; Waffles; Whole Wheat Bread; Gems. 

CAKES.— Angel; Centennial; Cocoanut; Cookies; Fruit ; Drop ; Farm- 
er’s Fruit; Gingerbread; Hickory Nut; Jelly; Lemon Custard Jelly; 
Marble: Nut Layer; Orange; Pineapple; Pound : Itaisin ; Sponge. 

CANNING, PRESERVING. PICKLING AND JAMS.— Apples ; Berries; 
Cherries: Crabapples; Grapes; Pears; Peaches; Pineapple Marmalade; 
Plums: Quinces; Tomatoes; Strawberries. 

CEREALS.— Fig and Hominy ; Indian Meal Mush; RoUedOats; Whole 
Wheat ; Steamed Apples with Oatmeal. 

CHEESE.— Baked Cheese Omelet; Cheese Omelet; Cheese Muff; Cheese 
Ramekin ; W elsh Rarebit. 

CONVALESCENTS’ DISHES.— Apple Water; Beef Tea; Broth with 
Egg ; Chicken ; Tea ; Currant Juice ; Egg Water : Graham Bread for Invalids ; 
Junket; Mutton Broth; Oatmeal Gruel; Potato Soup ; Rice; Toast and Water. 
EGGS.— Baked: Boiled; Poached; Omelet. 

FISH AND SHELLFISH.— Baked Fish; Boiled Fish; Clam Chowder; 
Clams; Oysters a la Providence; Oysters Broiled: Creamed; Roasted in 
Shell ; Scalloped. 

FRUIT.- Apples, Baked ; Bananas, Baked ; Berries ; Cherry Salad ; Dates, 
Stuffed; Dates, with Cream; Peaches or Apricots; Figs and Rhubarb; 
Fruit Salad : Oranges, Pineapples ; Prunes, Stewed, Stuffed. 

ICES, ICE CREAMS AND FROZEN PUDDING.— Chocolate Ice Cream ; 
Frozen Custard: Frozen Peaches; Grape Sherbet ; Orange Ice; Tutti-Frutti 
Pudding •j^Vanilla Ice Cream. 

MEATS. -Beef ; Pot Roast : Roast, Stew; Lamb and Macaroni, Mutton; 
Sweetbreads, Boiled and Creamed. 

NUTS.— Boiled Chestnuts; Creamed Walnuts; Lyonnaise Chestnuts; 
Roasted Almonds, Vegetable Turkey. 

PIES.— Apple; Berry; Blackberry; Cherry; Lemon; Pie Crust ; Cream 
and Potato ; Puff Paste ; Pumpkin. 

POL^LTRY AND GAME.— Chicken, Baked Omelet; Broiled, Fricasseed; 
Pie, Roast; Patridge Roast; Turkey, Boded; Venison Roast. 

AND MANY OTHER VALUABLE RECIPES. 

Bound in Cloth, postpaid, $1*00 


PHYSICAL CULTURE PUBLISHING COMPANY 

Townsend Building 26th Street and Broadway, NEW YORK CITY 


HOW HEALTH AHD STREHQTH ARE 6AIHED 

The Three Great Remedies of Mature 

FASTING, HYDROPATHY 
AND EXERCISE 

By BERTTARR MACFADDER and FELIX OSWALD, A. M., M. D. 


PART I — FASTING. 

Learn to interpret your instincts. Every organism a 
self- regulating apparatus. Nature's protest against health- 
destroying habits. Starve a man and you will also starve 
his diseases. 

One or more meals daily. Brain work interferes with 
digestion. 

Protracted Fasts. Instances of remarkable cures. 
Fasting cure. 

Seven-day fast of one of the authors. Its effect on 
mind and body. 

HYDROPATHY. 

Cold, Nature’s specific for cure of germ diseases. 
Hydropathy a true remedy. The cold water cure. 

Air baths ; their remedial effect equals that of cold water. 
Cold air remedies digestive disorders. Consumptives 
cured in outdoor winter camps. 

EXERCISE. 

Gymnastics substituted for drugs 2,000 years ago. How 
a consumptive miner was cured. 

Indoor exercise. Gymnasiums. Quick benefits from 
movement cures. Bag punching, rowing machines, etc. 
Free movements of sanitarium exercises illustrated. 

PART IV. 

Detailed advice for treatment of Asthma, Fevers, Bil- 
iousness, Blood Diseases, Boils, Bright’s disease. Bron- 
chitis, Catarrh, Colds, Constipation, Consumption, Coughs, 
Croup, Diabetes, Diarrhoea, Diphtheria, Dropsy, Dyspep- 
sia, Eczema, Epilepsy, Erysipelas, General Debility, Gout, 
Grippe, Headache, Indigestion, and other diseases. 

^ound in Cloth, posipa.id, $L00* 

PHYSICAL CULTURE PUBLISHING COMPANY 

Townsend Building: 25tli St. and Broadway, New York City 


Marriage, A Life-Long Honeymoon 

Bernarr Macfadden* s Latest and Greatest 
Book for Men and Women 

Deals with the natural laws in the relations of the sexes. Satis- 
fying happiness can only be secured by obeying life’s highest laws. 
Those who seek continuous pleasure will find it only by following 
the strict injunctions of the noblest human instincts. 

SYNOPSIS OF CONTENTS 

Life is a continuous struggle for happiness. 

What is happiness, and how is it to be found? 

Fascination of courtship. 

The life beautiful: Can the dream be realized? 

Existing conditions in this degenerate age. 

The causes of all these abnormalities. 

The curse of prudishness. 

Sex immorality the world’s most monumental curse. 

Present preverted idea of sex morality. 

False idea of marital duties. 

The unsexing and physically debilitating effects of corsets. 
Dread of motherhood. 

Lack of protective instinct in women. 

Excesses that lessen vitality of both sexes. 

Doctors often advise prostitution. 

Is sex relationship necessary to health? 

Nerve-blighting influences of tobacco. 

Paralyzing effect of alcohol upon the nervous system. 
Nerve-benumbing results of overfeeding. 

The drug habit and its torpifying, paralyzing effect. 

Monogamy in its perfect state. 

Are children necessary to a happy home? 

Marriage the most divine of all human relations. 

Honeymoons frequently marred by lustful excesses. 

A wrong beginning the greatest evil of marriage. 

Plain instructions to those about to be married. 

Happiness depends upon the control of the passions. 
Tremendous power to be obtained by diverting the nervous 
energies of sex to other channels. 

The thrill ot a tender caress. 

Who is to blame when hands grow clammy and lips cold? 

The plain remedy for those who have made a wrong beginning. 
Can a dead love be revived? 

A cold, detailed analysis of love’s ernotions. 

Too ethereal ; not practical or possible. 

How sex can be controlled. 

Age to marry. 

Pre-natal influence. 

Must continence be observed during pregnancy? 

Marriage of blood relations 
The selection of a husband. 

The selection of a wife. 


This book, of vital interest to both sexes, will be sent, 
postpaid, anywhere upon receipt of $1.00 

PHYSICAL CULTURE PUBLISHIN6 COMPANY 

Townsend Building 25th Street and Broadway, NEW YORK CITY 


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